Cale Diaries
by a fan
Summary: THE AMAZING YEAR THAT WAS SEASON 1 AS SEEN THROUGH LOGAN CALE'S EYES IN THE FORM OF HIS JOURNAL - COMPLETE
1. Introduction

Title: Cale Diaries  
Written by: a fan  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own em...  
Feedback: Always Welcome! Just email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Archiving: Please ask  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
A/N: This is an ambitious project for me. My main goal is to follow the development of Logan's character throughout the series. The Cale Diaries will eventually contain an entry for at least every episode. In addition there will be some infill entries for the days between episodes or the events not shown on screen. Some of these will be based on my fics that bridge between episodes. Each entry will be dated as closely to the show's timeline as possible given the information available. I'll also be sticking pretty closely to the actual show and not introducing much AU stuff. I've even got some ideas for entries prior to the beginning of the show. Be prepared for lots of angst, passion, humour, romance and poetry.  
  
Cale Diary Entries posted to date (episode references are included in brackets):   
  
Written May 16, 2001  
Chapter 6: Tues May 7, 2019 - 1st day home(Pilot)  
Wed April 8, 2020 - The Grey Zone (Meow)  
Th April 9, 2020 - Max & Logan's Anniversary (Meow)  
  
Written May 17, 2001  
Fri April 10, 2020 - The Kiss (Meow)  
  
Written June 12, 2001  
Chapter 2: Sunday October 15, 2017 - The Beginning - The Conception of Eyes Only (Pilot)  
  
Written June 13 - June 20, 2001  
Chapter 3: Thursday April 11, 2019 (Pilot)  
Chapter 4: Friday April 12, 2019 - Her name is Max (Pilot)  
Chapter 5: Saturday April 13, 2019 - Preparations (Pilot)  
  
Written June 21 - July 5, 2001 in Chronological Order (Pilot)  
Chapter 7: Wednesday May 8, 2019 - Nightmare World (Pilot)  
Chapter 8: Thursday May 9, 2019 - I Should Have... (Pilot)  
Chapter 9: Sunday May 12, 2019 - I Can Do Anything (Pilot)  
Chapter 10: Thursday May 16, 2019 - Frustration (Pilot)  
Chapter 11: Friday May 17, 2019 - Miracles Come in Different Forms (Pilot)  
Chapter 12: Sunday June 30, 2019 - Cracks (Pilot)  
Chapter 13: Monday July 1, 2019 - Relief & Gratitude (Pilot)  
Chapter 14: Wednesday July 3, 2019 - Sunrise (Pilot)  
Chapter 15: Wednesday July 10, 2019 - A Quick Trip (Pilot)  
Chapter 16: Monday July 15, 2019 - Never Again (Pilot)  
Chapter 17: Thursday July 18, 2019 - Bast (Pilot)  
Chapter 18: Friday July 19, 2019 - She is there for me (Pilot)  
Chapter 19: Tuesday July 23, 2019 - Spilled Milk (Pilot)  
Chapter 20: Wednesday July 24, 2019 - Max is back (Pilot)  
  
Written July 15, 2001  
Chapter 21: Sunday August 11, 2019 - Fire in Her Eyes (Heat)  
  
Written July 17, 2001  
Chapter 22: Monday August 12, 2019 - Warmth & Solitude (Heat)  
Chapter 23: Tuesday August 13, 2019 - Action (Heat)  
  
Written July 21, 2001  
Chapter 24: Sunday September 1, 2019 - A Letter (Flushed)  
  
Written July 25, 2001  
Chapter 25: Tuesday September 3, 2019 - She Needs Me (Flushed)  
  
Written Aug 10, 2001  
Chapter 26: Thursday September 5, 2019 - Hoops (Flushed-Cream)  
Chapter 27: Saturday September 7, 2019 - The Rules of the Game (Flushed-Cream)  
  
Written Aug 27, 2001  
Chapter 28: Friday September 20, 2019 - Spark (Cream)  
Chapter 29: Saturday September 21, 2019 - He Abandoned Us (Cream)  
Chapter 30: Monday September 23, 2019 - I Killed Him (Cream)  
Chapter 31: Monday October 7, 2019 - Security & Friendship (Cream)  
  
Written May 20, 2001  
Chapter 32: Mon Nov 11, 2019 - Logan's Birthday. (411 on the DL)  
Chapter 33: Tues Nov 12, 2019 - Valerie's Visit. (411 on the DL)  
  
Written August 29, 2001  
Chapter 34: Fri Nov 15, 2001 - New Shoes (Prodigy)  
Chapter 35: Mon Nov 18, 2001 - Falls (Prodigy)  
  
Written September 4, 2001  
Chapter 36: Fri Nov 22, 2019 - G.I. Joe (Cold Comfort)  
Chapter 37: Sat Nov 23, 2019 - He Knows Her Face (Cold Comfort)  
  
Written September 8, 2001  
Chapter 38: Wed Nov 27, 2019 - Bad News (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
Chapter 39: Thu Nov 28, 2019 - Sad Waltz (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
Chapter 40: Tue Dec 3, 2019 - Dreams (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
  
Written September 10, 2001  
Chapter 41: Wed Jan 1, 2020 - New Year(Out)  
Chapter 42: Tues Jan 14, 2020 - Blackness(Out)  
Chapter 43: Wed Jan 22, 2020 - Priorities (Out)  
Chapter 44: Fri, Feb 7, 2020 - Rescue (Out)  
Chapter 45: Wed, Feb 10, 2020 - Scream (Red)  
Chapter 46: Th Feb 11, 2020 - Red (Red)  
  
Written September 16, 2001  
Chapter 47: Th, Feb 13, 2020 - Vows (Art Attack)  
Chapter 48: Fri, Feb 14, 2020 - Date (Art Attack)  
Chapter 49: Sun, Feb 16, 2020 - Everything in its Place (Art Attack)  
  
Written October 4,2001  
Chapter 50: Mon, Feb 17, 2020 - Intimate (Rising)  
Chapter 51: Tue, Feb 18, 2020 - Nothing (Rising)  
Chapter 52: Th, Feb 20, 2020 - Rising (Rising)  
  
Written October 6, 2001  
Chapter 53: Fri, Feb 21, 2020 - Fast (Rising)  
Chapter 54: Sun, Feb 23, 2020 - Rising for Bling (Rising)  
  
Written October 19, 2001  
Chapter 55: Tue, Feb 24, 2020 - Poulet Chez Cale (Kidz)  
Chapter 56: Wed, Feb 25, 2020 - What Do You Say? (Kidz)  
Chapter 57: Wed, Feb 25, 2020 - Warnings (Kidz)  
Chapter 58: Th, Feb 26, 2020 - Last Chance (Kidz)  
  
Written November 2, 2001  
Chapter 59: Sat, Feb 29, 2020 - Numbness (Female Trouble)  
Chapter 60: Sun, Mar 1, 2020 - Fighting for Life (Female Trouble)  
  
Written November 13, 2001  
Chapter 61: Fri, Mar 6, 2020 - Ground Zero (Haven)  
Chapter 62: Sat, Mar 7, 2020 - It Was War? (Haven)  
  
Written November 18, 2001  
Chapter 63: Tue, Mar 10, 2020 - Aftermath (Haven)  
Chapter 64: Th, Mar 12, 2020 - What am I? (Haven)  
Chapter 65: Fri, Mar 13, 2020 - Gray Skies (Haven)  
Chapter 66: Sat, Mar 14, 2020 - Through Darkness (Haven)  
Chapter 67: Sat, Mar 14, 202 - Somebody's Angel (Haven-Shorties)  
  
Written January 2, 2002  
Chapter 68: Mon, Mar 16, 2020 - A Measure of Peace (Shorties in Love)  
Chapter 69: Tue, Mar 17, 2020 - Way More (Shorties in Love)  
  
Written January 6, 2002  
Chapter 70: Th, Mar 19, 2020 - Worry (Shorties in Love)  
Chapter 71: Th, Mar 19, 2020 - Exposed (Shorties in Love)  
  
Written January 29, 2002  
Chapter 72: Sat, Mar 21, 2020 - Open (Shorties in Love)  
  
Written February 2, 2002  
Chapter 73: Sun, Mar 22, 2020 - Unwanted News (Pollo Loco)  
Chapter 74: Mon, Mar 23, 2020 - What's Going On Here? (Pollo Loco)  
  
Written February 4, 2002  
Chapter 75: Tues, Mar 24, 2020 - Seeds of Doubt (Pollo Loco)  
Chapter 76: Wed, Mar 25, 2020 - Photos (Pollo Loco)  
  
Written March 5, 2002  
Chapter 77: Sun, Mar 29, 2020 - She Seems Fine (I & I am a Camera)  
Chapter 78: Mon, Mar 30, 2020 - Perspective (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written March 7, 2002  
Chapter 79: Tues, Mar 31, 2020 - Appearances (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written March 10, 2002  
Chapter 80: Tues, Mar 31, 2020 - Grief (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written March 15, 2002  
Chapter 81: Tues, Mar 31, 2020 - Anger (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written March 20:2002  
Chapter 82: Wed, Apr 1, 2020 - Moves (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written March 25, 2002  
Chapter 83: Wed Apr 1, 2020 - Don't Laugh (I & I am a Camera)  
  
Written April 2, 2002  
Chapter 84: Th Apr 2, 2020 - Exo (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
All subsequent entries will be posted in chronological order per the actual episodes.  
  
Enjoy and please R&R! 


	2. Sun Oct 15, 2017 - The Beginning - Eyes ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: C.R.E.A.M.  
Fic Reference: None  
  
A/N: How was Eyes Only conceived? What kind of person was Logan Cale before he started Eyes Only? Here are some clues from Logan's own journal.   
  
Chapter 2: Sunday October 15, 2017 - Eyes Only  
  
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Sunday October 15, 2017  
  
10:00 am  
Nathan Herrero has been missing for a month now. He disappeared without a trace. His apartment is untouched, there were no signs of a struggle. His body has not been found. It's like he was snatched out of thin air.   
  
I've spent the last month looking for any clue to what's happened but there has been nothing. The closest I've gotten is a young detective at the police department, Matt Sung, who told me there is an ongoing investigation but that all the files are sealed. He is the only one in the police department that didn't give me the brush-off. He seems to have integrity, a rare quality in the police force these days. I'd like to get to know him better. I need more people like him in my life. But he couldn't help me much either. He doesn't have access to the files or even know who is running the investigation. For all I know the police killed Nathan themselves. They have plenty to hide.  
  
In the past few years I've lived for my work with Nathan. There is nothing else of value in my life. My wife is long gone and the rest of my family might as well be. They look down on me and talk to me in their condescending tone like I am a small child to be humored, writing my little stories and playing at saving the world. But I can't live their life anymore. It took me a long time to get my eyes off myself but now I can't turn back. I can't be one of them anymore. I'm just grateful to Nathan for opening my eyes and helping me see the world in a completely different way. What am I going to do without Nathan here? He was my mentor, my leader. I did a lot of research for his stories but I never took point on any of his investigations. I never truly put myself in the line of fire, not in the way Nathan did every day.   
  
I completed the transfer of Nathan's files to my system today. Months ago he gave me full access to his files telling me that he wouldn't be around forever, but I didn't expect to lose him without any warning. I never expected to be responsible for the whole informant network. I've been looking through his records, at the hundreds of contacts, and dozens of open files. How am I going to get their stories out? How am I going to protect these people? We have lost too many like Nathan lately. Countless journalists have lost their lives trying to prevent or just slow down this nation's backslide. But it has been a losing battle. We've been losing journalists and informants faster than the corrupt officials they have been trying to hold accountable. Something has to change soon or we will end up in a worse disaster than we are now.  
  
We need a system that protects the informant and the journalist at each level of contact and makes them untraceable to each other. We also need maximum media exposure if we want to effect any lasting change. Print media won't work, because of limited circulation and government censorship. Even if we had our own underground paper all those that were involved in production and distribution would be at risk of exposure. It would be almost impossible to protect a massive operation like that.   
  
The other option is an anonymous "cyberpaper". With the encryption technology that is still available we could effectively protect the informants and the journalists. But the limitation again is circulation. The internet today is so disjointed with only fragments of the puzzle remaining. What am I thinking? Most people don't even have access to a computer any more. We would be publishing to a privileged few, the ones least likely to care about change in their insulated world. I know because I live in that world.  
  
I have no idea what I am going to do. I don't know if the thugs and powerbrokers are going to win. I don't know if I can go on fighting this losing battle.  
  
3:00 pm  
I've been reading Orwell's 1984 again. Our society is so much like his police state where personal freedom is sacrificed and individuals no longer have any value. My uncle's hoverdrones have brought us even closer to that world of constant surveillance, to that world of Big Brother and of hidden eyes constantly watching us through television screens in every room. We need a reverse "Big Brother" who watches the powerful on the public's behalf, a larger than life hero that stands for freedom. We need someone that we can look up to.  
  
Maybe as in Orwell's world television could solve our distribution problem. It is the one technology that is still widely available after the pulse. There isn't quite a set in every room but even those living in abandoned cars have access to it. I've seen them with their tiny screens using the frame of the car as an antenna to catch signals. But traditional broadcasting will give us the same problems as using the print media. We wouldn't be able to adequately protect the production crew. We need something more covert with a minimum number of people required to operate it.   
  
11:30 pm  
I haven't been able to get the television broadcasting idea out of my head all day and I think I have a solution. It will be the perfect blend of the security and extensive media exposure we require. All we really need is to be able to strategically broadcast short news bulletins as stories develop. If we intercepted existing signals we would also have a built in audience. Hijacking a cable signal is relatively simple, with some added equipment I could probably do it from right here in my apartment. We will also need an announcer but for obvious reasons we won't be able to reveal his face. We could use a blank screen or maybe just show his eyes. It would make him more real, more effective. He will be there watching but he will be untraceable because the only thing visible about him will be his eyes, his eyes only. Eyes only? It might work.  
  
EYES ONLY - MISSION STATEMENT  
To restore America to freedom and prosperity by exposing corruption and abuse in all levels of business and government and by bringing those responsible to justice.  
  
I have a feeling EYES ONLY will change my life in ways I haven't even considered and hopefully it will change this country as well. It will need a lot more thought and a lot of work before it becomes a reality, but it may be possible. I don't know if I can pull it off, but I have to do something. Things can't go on as they are.  
  
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A/N: I wanted to show that despite his intelligence Logan didn't always have the confidence in his work that he has today. That he too needed a mentor to guide him and it took a lot of courage to start Eyes Only. Did it work? Please R&R.  
  



	3. Th Apr 11, 2019 - Dark Angel (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'...  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Chapter 3: Thursday April 11, 2019  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
  
A/N: Here it is, long awaited by many. Logan's first look at Max as recorded in his journal with a snippet of poetry for added insight.  
  
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Thursday April 11, 2019  
  
8:00 am  
We are working on the biggest takedown in the history of Eyes Only. I can't believe how much Eyes Only has grown since it was conceived a year and a half ago. I had no idea that it would expand to include it's own security force with safehouses and contacts all over the city and country. The moment Eyes Only went on the air the response was enormous. There is so much need out there it's almost overwhelming. Yet all the pieces have come together and we have been able to make some progress. We might be able to make a difference in this broken down world that we live in.  
  
I did not expect to become the "Eyes" in Eyes Only, but the longer I worked on the plan the more I realized that I didn't need to put anyone else at risk. Barely half a dozen people know who Eyes Only is and it will remain that way. This project has consumed my life for the last year and a half. I live it, eat it, breath it. I barely sleep. There is so much to do. I've never felt this passionate about anything. The responsibility is enormous but the rewards are there. Sometimes I feel like I don't need anything but Eyes Only, that it gives me all I need. I am willing to sacrifice anything for it even my life. I can't continue to allow the gangsters and the thugs to rule our world with impunity. Somebody has to fight them. Somebody has to do it.  
  
We are currently protecting the key witness for Edgar Sonrisa's murder indictment. Sonrisa is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Balkan War veterans. He has been diverting the supply of the drug cortodiazapine to the Canadian black market while combat vets exposed to bio-war agents go untreated. Lauren Braganza was a manager in Sonrisa's plant and she personally supervised the removal of the cortodiazapine. Her testimony will ensure Sonrisa's indictment for multiple counts of murder.  
  
The stakes are very high for Sonrisa. He has already killed Lauren's husband and would have no qualms killing her and her daughter to silence her. Peter and I have put together our tightest team ever. I have Lauren and her daughter Sophy here in my apartment. We considered placing them in a safe house but the apartment is the most secure location. It is unknown to Sonrisa and has the added benefit of building security to supplement Peter and his team. Our location on the 24th floor also makes roof access less likely. If Sonrisa's men can find us they may be able to penetrate one of our layers of security but I doubt they would be able to get all the way through to Lauren and Sophy. The riskiest moment will come in a few days when we transfer Lauren and Sophy into protective custody. We will have to choreograph it very carefully. As long as we keep a low profile on the day of the transfer and with a little luck we should be able to pull it off.  
  
10:00 am  
I sent out the first of several Sonrisa Eyes Only broadcasts today. It's time to increase the pressure on him. Lauren and Sophy are holding up fine. Lauren will be a good witness. Despite her concerns for Sophy's safety she wants to do this. We're going to take that sonovabitch down.  
  
It's been very interesting seeing Lauren and Sophy together. They really have a bond. I haven't felt that kind of connection since my parents died. It's certainly not in my family today. The only thing that keeps us together is cold hard cash. At least with the cash I have the freedom to do what I want. In any case, in this line of work it pays to be unattached. Wives and children need time and understanding and protection, things I can't offer right now. I would be putting them at risk every day. It's easier to stick with the shallow babes who don't really care who they are with as long as he can provide a good meal, a night on the town and a few hours of diversion. This week it could be me. Next week it could be any other guy. But, the truth is I haven't even been able to get into that lately. I can't even remember the last time I had a woman up here, probably last summer. I definitely don't need a lightweight lovely to distract me right now. People are relying on me for their lives. If I am going to protect them I need to focus.   
  
3:00 p.m.  
I made lunch for Lauren and Sophy today. Actually Sophy and I made it together. When I told her we were going to make pizza her eyes almost popped out. She has probably never had it before. The twentieth century fast food has become a post-pulse luxury. We made the crust from scratch. I showed Sophy how to kneed and roll out the dough. I even found her a chef's hat in the back of the linen closet to make it all official. It was amusing watching her work, her nose and cheeks covered in flour. It took us two hours to make the pizza but seeing the sparkle in her eyes as she ate it was worth it. She is a child and deserves every lighthearted diversion she can have.  
  
Despite all the tension we are feeling right now I'm glad to have Lauren and Sophy in my home. I don't know why I let my guard down with them; it will be that much harder to have them go later. It's usually so much easier to stay aloof. Dozens of good people, just like them have come through here or one of our safehouses in the last year and a half. They are here for the blink of an eye. I barely have time to get to know them and their stories, and then they are gone again, starting a new life. I wish I could connect with some of them but I know that it is tactically unsound, so I give them their new identities and let them go.  
  
  
12:05 am  
I met a chimera tonight. Came in through a skylight via the roof. Female, very young, barely a woman, very intelligent, knows her art. Wicked attitude, cocky, sure of herself. Acid tongue to go with it. She was unfazed by the shotgun I pointed at her. Unbelievably strong, took out Peter with one hand. Amazingly agile, broke through a window and landed on her feet several stories below. Incredibly beautiful. Incredibly beautiful.  
  
I thought Sonrisa had sent her but it turns out she is a thief. She was only here for some personal enrichment. She was especially interested in the statue of Bast, the Egyptian goddess. Half cat, half woman. "The goddess who comprehends all goddesses, eye of Ra, protector, avenger, and destroyer, giver of life, who lives forever." They way this girl described her it's almost as if she feels a personal connection to her. She definitely has a catlike grace when she moves.   
  
That statue was on a table in my office. She had to walk in behind me to get it. I didn't even hear her. She even paused to hear my Eyes Only broadcast. It took brazen confidence to do that. And how did she gain access to the roof? It definitely wasn't via the stairwells or the elevator. She would have had to go right through building security as well as avoid all the security cameras. It's almost as if she dropped out of the sky like some kind of dark angel. She certainly has the face of an angel although her line of work is definitely not angelic.  
  
I vaguely remember a file that came over the informant net a while ago that described twelve children that were rumored to have escaped a covert government lab in Wyoming. They had been genetically enhanced and trained as soldiers. Her age and skills are certainly consistent with this report. Could she be one of these children?   
  
What is she? A girl, a thief, a cat burglar, a genetically engineered soldier? The most fascinating woman I have ever met? I don't know. In any case I have to find her. She knows about Eyes Only and she could seriously compromise our security.  
  
I want to see this dark angel's face again.  
  
DARK ANGEL  
  
Face of an angel  
Moves of a cat  
Tongue of acid  
Strength of a soldier  
Eyes of a woman  
  
Logan Cale  
  
  
A/N: What do you think? Logan's first look at Max. Did I do it justice? How was the poem, did it capture his feelings about her? Please R & R.  
  
  



	4. Fri April 12, 2019 - Max (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Chapter 4: Friday April 12, 2019 - Her name is Max  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: None  
  
A/N: Here they are for all you shippers Logan's feelings as he tracks down Max!   
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Friday April 12, 2019  
  
10:00 am  
I went up on the roof first thing this morning to figure out how our cat burglar dropped in on us. God do I hate heights! But my foray was worth it. I found the lead I was looking for. I discovered a black nylon rope snaking down the side of the building beside us, anchored to the roof ten stories up, it's still there now. She must have jumped from the roof and used the rope to arc over here. Unbelievable! She really did drop out of the sky.   
  
The guard next door was happy to hand over yesterday's surveillance video for a little cash. And there she was, in full color, our cat, courtesy of Jam Pony Messenger Services. It's the perfect cover for a cat burglar, legitimate access to innumerable locations, unlimited opportunities for reconnaissance. She probably cased out the apartment yesterday afternoon after delivering her package. I wouldn't be surprised if there were still a few well-placed pieces of tape here or there keeping a key door or two unlocked.   
  
Peter caught me staring at her. What did he expect? She has the most breathtaking face I have ever seen. But it's more than just a beautiful face. It's those eyes, those forever eyes. There is a depth in those eyes I've never seen before. What is she hiding in their depths? I could have searched those eyes for hours.  
  
4:00 pm  
  
Her name is Max.   
  
With a little more cash and a few well-placed questions at Jam Pony I got her name and her address. Her building is only ten years old, but crumbling from disrepair. It was supposed to be a luxury development. The old marketing posters are still outside, faded and spray painted over, "Downtown living at its finest". Then the pulse hit and everything stopped. It was never finished. Just a skeleton remains, partially studded floors, unfinished drywall, roughed in fixtures, no appliances. All hints of past glory have been worn away by neglect. Yet dozens of buildings like this have been taken over by squatters desperate for housing. In this world it still is the lap of luxury compared to the buses and cars so many live in. Max's place is better than most. She has running water, cold of course and she even has a hot plate in the kitchen. She is obviously siphoning power from the city power grid. Probably rigged up the connection herself. It was a typical single girl's apartment, makeshift furniture, junkyard finds, clothes everywhere, a little food in the kitchen. Typical except for the bottle of tryptophan in the bathroom.   
  
I just finished going through the Manticore file with a fine-tooth comb. My hunch about the tryptophan was correct. They used recombinant DNA to design a superior human, an advanced infantry solder. They had design flaws though, not the least of which was the inability of their brains to produce sufficient seratonin causing severe seizures. Manticore was working on a gene therapy for the condition but at the time of the report they were unsuccessful. The most effective medication at that time was Tryptophan. As the pieces come together I am more and more convinced that Max is one of these soldiers. I wonder how she has been dealing with the seizures all these years?  
  
There were a couple dozen of these kids. After the in-vitro work they recruited surrogate mothers to carry them to term. Twelve of them escaped in '09. They must have been about ten years old then. It's almost incomprehensible to think that a few ten year olds escaped a heavily guarded military facility. What did they build into these kids? I would love to have just one soldier like that on my security crew. They have tattoos on their necks, an identifying barcode. I wonder if I will be able to get close enough to Max to see hers.  
  
10:00 pm  
I tracked Max down at Crash, her after work hangout, this evening. She is even more beautiful in person than she is on video. I barely know her yet there is an inexplicable comfort and a crackling tension between us. She is so different from anyone I've ever known. I've never felt this way with another woman before. I've spent the whole day tracking her down and I still can't get her off my mind.  
  
I love her sassy attitude, even her cynicism. She has a sarcastic comment for everything I say. "Rich people decorating their houses to match the cat. Those good old days?" What a comeback! She claims she doesn't have a social conscience. That she doesn't care about anything but going fast on her bike. I don't believe that, not with the depths in those eyes. When I see her tonight I'm going to call her on it.  
  
We talked for all of five minutes outside Crash before she pulled another fast exit. This is becoming a habit with her. But I know I'll be seeing her soon. When she discovers the little gift I left her back at her apartment she will be back. Maybe I can convince her to stay for dinner. In any case the meal is prepared. The table is set. This little game we're playing is the most fun I've had in ages.  
  
11:00pm  
My cat dropped in for dinner but she didn't stay.   
  
It was easier catching a glimpse of her barcode than I thought. No girl is immune to some well-directed flattery not even Max. And it is so easy to give when you are at least partially sincere. Just tell them the truth, but blow it up a little, add a little spice. Then give them a look like you might not mean it, that you know you are feeding them a line. Then at the last moment look away, like they caught you saying too much, that maybe you did mean it after all.  
  
It worked with Max. The lines came out perfectly. "Probably the most singularly beautiful face I've ever seen." "I haven't been able to get you off my mind." "I have to know everything about you." The only problem was that there was more truth to them than I ever intended. I'm not immune to Max either. When I leaned in to find her barcode, I would rather have kissed that beautiful neck of hers. Maybe I should have. But then Eyes Only took over. The barcode was there, as I knew it would be. I should have just ignored it and kissed her, but I didn't. I backed away and got straight to business. Of course the mission has to take priority. It always takes precedence over anything else in my life.  
  
I offered Max a deal I was sure she would accept, information about the others in exchange for help with the transfer tomorrow. But she turned me down cold. It seems her conscience is not quite as developed as I'd hoped. Even the offer to find the others like her wasn't enough to bring her along.   
  
She pulled another fast exit, but she won't be able to go far. She may not be working with us tomorrow but I'm not going to let her off the hook so easily. I'll find her again. This game is far from over.  
  
  



	5. Sat Apr 13, 2019 - Preparations (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'...   
Title: Cale Diaries   
Chapter 5: Saturday April 13, 2019 - Preparations   
Rating: PG   
Episode Reference: Pilot   
  
A/N: In gratitude for your much appreciated reviews here's another chapter. This is Logan's last journal entry before the shooting and for added continuity Chapter 6 is already up - Logan's first journal entry after the shooting.  
  
Saturday April 13, 2019   
  
7:00 am   
In three hours we will be transferring Lauren and Sophy into witness protection. The exchange is set for 10:00 am at the superior court building. I've been up since 5:00 am going over the details, reviewing the contingencies. We will be taking my car. There will only be five of us, myself, Lauren, Sophy, Peter and one of his crew. Attracts less attention that way, much easier to blend into the crowd. We'll pull up to the stairs hand them over to witness protection and that will be it.   
  
We have kept an extremely tight lid on the details. The only ones that know the exact transfer time and location are myself, Peter and witness protection. There is always the possibility of a leak but we have done our best to contain it. We also have broad daylight working for us. Any attempts to get to Lauren will have to be direct and out in the open. I don't know if Sonrisa is willing to do that but we need to consider it. At least we will be able to see what is coming. The three of us will be carrying weapons and as added protection we will all be wearing kevlar vests. But the truth is, if a leak occurs and we are ambushed our chances are slim. God I hope it doesn't come to that. Lauren has placed her trust in me. Her life is in my hands. I wish I could do more to guarantee her safety, to protect her and her daughter.   
  
Someone of Max's caliber would have been a great asset to our team, but she turned me down. Last night we were playing a game, we flirted and danced around each other, but this morning everything is deadly serious. Max doesn't trust me and I gave her no reason to. My little maneuver with the barcode cost us both a lot. She had let her guard down, she let me get close to her, but then I pulled away. It will probably take us a long time to get back to where we were before that, to rebuild the fragile trust we had developed.   
  
I thought I could buy Max's services in exchange for some information, that it would be a simple business arrangement. Nothing is ever that simple. She is not willing to risk exposure. I caught a glimpse into the depths of her eyes when she described what Manticore would do if they recaptured her. Last night I tried to ignore those eyes, but this morning I don't blame her. Beneath that tough exterior is a vulnerable girl who has already seen too much of the harshness of life. I don't blame her for wanting to protect herself.   
  
Yet I still wish there was some way I could show Max that there is more to life than hiding. I think it would take a long time to convince her of that even if I did help her find the others like her. She obviously cares deeply for them, but the price I asked of her is too high. She is too used to keeping her head down, minding her own business, not rocking the boat. She could be so powerful, just like that goddess Bast that she is so attracted to. But she hasn't discovered that strength in herself yet.   
  
Max   
Hiding your power   
Behind a tough shell   
A vulnerable girl   
Lost without parents, brothers or sisters   
Afraid of the world   
  
Bast   
Heart of a protector   
Eye of an avenger   
Strength of a destroyer   
Giver of Life   
I see her within you   
  
Last night I told Max I knew everything about her, but it's not true. I know a few facts about how she was made, but I don't truly know her at all. I've barely begun to see inside her to see the real person. I wonder if the scientists at Manticore realize what they have made, the woman they have created? I could spend a lifetime getting to know her. Maybe later today, after the transfer is completed, I will track her down.   
  
The apartment is quiet. Lauren and Sophy are still asleep. But I can't sleep. Not with the weight of their lives on my shoulders. In a while I will wake them up and help them prepare. I'll miss them when they go, but I'll be able to breathe again when they are safely out of my hands. This is the most difficult part of my job, these last few hours, the waiting, the uncertainty, the responsibility...   
  
  
  
A/N: I wanted the tension and seriousness of this entry to contrast with the lighter tone of the day before. Did I succeed? Please R&R  



	6. Tues May 7, 2019 - Fist Day Home (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em...  
Title: Cale Diaries   
Chapter 6: Tuesday May 7, 2019 - First day Home   
Rating: PG   
Episode Reference: Pilot   
  
A/N: Logan's first journal entry after the shooting. No shippiness in this one, just a lot of pain and angst. A few of you may have read this entry before but it has grown significantly since it was first posted.  
  
Tues May 7, 2019  
  
First day home. More like first day in eternal prison. I was desperate to come home from the hospital. I felt like I was going to die there. But the transfer home was agonizing and exhausting. It hurt so much each time I was moved. Now that I'm here I don't know if all the pain and effort was worth it, if it will make any difference at all. I'm trapped in a body that doesn't work anymore, in a narrow world of wheelchairs and numbness and searing pain. Every time I move my body screams at me. The pain is constant in my upper back and all the way down to where the bullet entered. Then below that nothing. I'm half dead. Why did I survive at all? I don't know.  
  
I've never felt helpless before. I could always take care of myself. I could handle myself in any situation. But now I can't do anything for myself. Bling does everything for me. He cleans me up. He gets me dressed. He prepares my food. He picks me up and places me in my chair. He carries me to bed. He helps me to sit up and lie down and he rolls me over when I can't endure lying on my back for another minute. I am totally dependent on him and I know it. If I try to do anything on my own my body rebels and sends me into spasms of pain.   
  
Bling treats me so gently, like I am a fragile piece of china, that if he touches me or even looks at me incorrectly I might shatter into a thousand pieces. The worst thing is that is how I feel. Even though I tried not to show it coming home today was almost unendurable. Each time Bling lifted me in or out of the wheelchair I almost passed out from the pain. I feel like my body is barely staying together, that I am on the edge of disaster. Bling is my lifeline. He is the one that is holding me together. If it wasn't for him I would already be dead. I'm sure of it. Yet I hate having to rely on him. I hate my dependence and my helplessness.  
  
When we first got home I asked Bling to roll me to the window and set me up with my journal. I haven't written in weeks. For the longest time I didn't even have the strength to hold a pencil, not that I would have been able to write anything coherent. Those days in the hospital are a torturous haze to me. I am so grateful that I can write now, that I can try to get some of this hopelessness and frustration that I'm feeling on paper. If I didn't have my writing I would explode. But I found it so hard to get started. I just sat there staring out the window.  
  
I don't know how long I sat there staring out at the world that I'm no longer a part of searching for some hope for some meaning in all this. Then I saw her, a figure on the roof across the street hiding in the shadows, a girl, or a woman or an angel. She reached out her hand to me like she wanted to give me something, her hope, her strength then she disappeared. I must be so desperate. I'm imagining angels. This isn't a world of angels. It's a world of war and death and pain. There are no angels. There never were. There's only people fighting and clawing for survival.  
  
People like Max who know how to survive. Maybe it was Max. She's an expert at covert surveillance, at appearing for an instant then melting into the shadows. I vaguely remember hearing her voice in the hospital once. Was she there? I don't know. Everything is such a blur. What was she doing there if she was there at all and what would she be doing here now?   
  
I must be insane thinking that Max would be out there checking on me. I'm just another fool crusader to her. Yet I wish we could have worked together. We seemed to have an unspoken understanding of each other. I only knew her for twenty-four hours but we shared each other's most precious secrets. She knew about Eyes Only and I knew about her past. But Eyes Only is dead. He died with Peter and Lauren and Sophy and my legs. I can't go back to that now. I can't have any more blood on my hands. Max was so right. The world doesn't want to be saved.  
  
Bling pushed me back here by the window after we ate. I've been looking for her ever since. I know that there's no one out there. Yet why do I feel like I'm being watched over?  
  
  
Dark Angel   
Hiding in the Shadows of My Life  
  
  
God, do I need an angel right now. I don't think I can make it on my own. I can't handle this endless pain.   
  
Oh God it's starting agai...  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Wed May 8, 2019 - Nightmare World (Pilot...

Disclaimer: I don't own 'em...  
Title: Cale Diaries   
Chapter 7: Wednesday May 8, 2019 - Nightmare World   
Rating: PG   
Episode Reference: Pilot   
Feedback: Always Welcome! Just email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
A/N: What was it like for Logan in the hospital and how did he find out about his injury? Here it is.  
  
Chapter 7 - Wednesday May 8, 2019  
  
Today is May 8th. I came home from the hospital yesterday. We were   
ambushed on April 13th. It's been almost a month since the shooting but I can only remember the last week. The rest is a black fog, a nightmare world. I'm writing this to try and reclaim some of those days, to separate the reality from the nightmare.   
  
I remember my mind and body were trapped in a fog. I couldn't extricate myself. I couldn't move. I couldn't open my eyes. I didn't know if I was awake or in an endless nightmare. I vaguely remember a girl's voice, like Max's but softer, then the feeling of being moved and an explosion followed by many frantic voices. Then I was back at the car with Sophy in my arms and a bullet ripping into my back. Sonrisa's man was ripping Sophy away from me and shooting her and Lauren in the head. Then he was turning his gun on me. A searing pain overtook my body and sent me back into the darkness.   
  
An eternity later I awoke suffocating in a sea of blackness. I couldn't see or feel or breathe. For a moment I could hear the whisper of voices "attempt on his life...security...extra guards". I flashed back to the car again watching Peter crumple under a hail of bullets and the pain hit me again.   
  
I woke up again in blackness to hear more whispered voices. A woman's "He's unresponsive.. needs constant stimulation.. We don't have the resources." And a man's "I'll assign someone." Then I was descending into another round of nightmares and another wave of pain. The nightmare cycle would repeat over and over again.  
  
I awoke with a start. Out of nowhere there was a hand holding mine. It was strong and callused. It couldn't be a dream, it was too real too alive. I gripped that hand with all my desperation. There was a strong voice accompanying the hand. It seemed to cut through the fog.   
  
He said his name was Bling, that he could feel me squeezing his hand. He said I was having trouble waking up, but he was there to help me. He told me I wasn't dreaming. He was real. He told me to reach out for him when I felt lost or confused, when I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was real or not. He told me to just reach for his hand and listen for his voice, that they were real.  
  
He said he would be reading to me and playing music, that I should try to focus on these things, that they would help me escape the nightmares. Far in the distance I could hear music playing. I struggled to focus on it. I held on to the music and Bling's voice and his hand for dear life. But the fog was still so thick around me, that eventually the effort became too much and I was back in the nightmare world. Sonrisa was laughing at me, throwing Sophy's bloodied corpse at my feet as bullets were shooting like fiery darts through my body.  
  
I needed to hear the music again, to hear Bling's voice again. The fog continued to engulf me but I fought so hard to find Bling through the drone of voices around me. His voice became my beacon, talking to me, reading to me and asking me questions. It took all my effort to listen to what he was saying.  
  
"Open your eyes Logan." I'd try to push my eyes open to peer through the fog to distinguish the blur of faces before me.  
  
"Logan, I'm putting a ball in your hand. I want you to hold on to it." I'd feel a hand wrapping my fingers around a ball. I'd focus with all my energy to keep my grip on it but the moment the hand let go I could feel it roll away. Then I would be engulfed in the fog again and everything would fade away.  
  
Bling's voice was my constant. Sometimes it was far away and sometimes it was clear and right beside me. He read from an endless stream of books and had music constantly playing in the background. I don't remember much about the books or what the music was. I just remember that it was there. That it was something to focus on. I drifted in and out of consciousness and nightmares but I always came back to Bling's voice and the music.  
  
Eventually the voices and the faces became clearer. There was a dark face, Bling's face. It belonged to his voice, the voice that talked and read to me, the voice that asked me to open my eyes. There was another face lighter with dark hair and sad gentle eyes saying he was my surgeon. Then many other faces, nurses I think coming in and out. Then Max telling me not to take stupid risks then gunmen in masks shooting through the windshield of the car, another nightmare of death and agony.  
  
I awoke later to hear Bling talking about basketball. He said he was reading the History of Basketball. Basketball? Now that was a subject that could always grab my attention. The historical development of the game is one of the most engrossing things I could ever get into. I have always appreciated its athleticism, skill and sophisticated teamwork. Bling kept up a running commentary while he was reading. He also kept asking me questions. Which was the all-time best basketball team? Who was the best forward? Who was the best guard? Bling would just answer his own questions and continue. But when he suggested that Wilt Chamberlain was the greatest player of all time I couldn't let him get away with that.  
  
"Michael Jordan." I whispered. I could barely get the words out of my mouth.  
  
Bling stopped talking in mid sentence. I think he was shocked that I responded to him.   
  
"No Way. It's got to be Wilt Chamberlain." There was a tone of surprise and amusement in his voice.  
  
"It's Michael Jordan, no question." My throat was so dry. My voice felt rough and unnatural. I opened my eyes and tried to focus, through the fog, on this guy who knew nothing about basketball.  
  
"Chamberlain." He was insistent.  
  
"Jordan." I stared in the direction of the voice and through the fog his face came slowly into focus. He looked at me for a long time then broke into a huge grin.  
  
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Bling. Welcome back Man!" He knew I could see him. He held a straw to my lips so I could take a sip of water. I sucked back the water then with determination I returned to the topic at hand.  
  
"I know who you are. Don't change the subject. It's definitely Michael Jordan." Bling stared at me in shock then broke into a raucous laugh.   
  
"It's a pleasure meeting the guy who's been chewing my ear off." I said sarcastically. It was so good having a real conversation instead of trying to communicate through the fog that I couldn't help laughing as well.  
  
I wanted to talk to Bling for hours but an intense exhaustion overtook me and I fell into the first truly relaxing sleep since the shooting. I didn't know then about the new reality I was about to face.  
  
When I woke up there was something wrong. My head felt relatively clear but my legs were still stuck in the fog. I couldn't move them, I couldn't feel anything below my waist. I kept trying to make the connection but the fog was too thick and my lower body was totally unresponsive. I looked frantically around for Bling.   
  
"I'm here Logan." He was at my side in an instant. "Your Doc will be here in a minute to explain to you what is going on." He understood my unspoken question. "You might remember him. He's been around a lot. Let's get you sitting up. It will be easier for you two to talk."   
  
As Bling raised my bed into a seated position the man with the lighter face and dark hair walked in. My surgeon? He lowered the rail and sat down on the bed beside me. His gentle eyes seemed filled with sadness.   
  
He said his name was Dr. Carr, but that I should call him Sam. He said there were a few things I needed to know and asked me if I remembered being in a shooting.  
  
I nodded my head. That was the one thing that was clear in my mind, the ambush and losing Sophy. God! Everyone was dead.  
  
"Logan?" His voice brought me back to the present. He told me I had been shot in the back and that he had performed surgery to remove the bullet fragments from my spinal cord. He assured me that even though I was currently experiencing a lot of pain that it would ease as I recovered from the surgery. He said there was an additional bullet fragment lodged against my spinal cord but that it appeared to be stable and should not cause me any trouble. He didn't remove it because he didn't want to risk further damage to my spinal cord.  
  
"What do you mean further damage?" I didn't want to ask that question.  
  
"One of the fragments severed you spinal cord in the mid-thorasic region, your middle back. Logan, you have paraplegia. That's why you haven't been able to move your legs. I'm so sorry." There was so much sadness in his eyes as he told me this.  
  
I just stared at him. Severed cord? Paraplegia?  
  
"Logan, do you understand?" There was an intense look of concern in his eyes which I didn't understand.  
  
"Paraplegia, loss of motor control in lower extremities due to spinal cord injury. I know what it is." I answered him mechanically, but I didn't believe him. I just kept staring at him. It wasn't paraplegia. It was just the fog. It hadn't lifted yet. A while ago I couldn't even hold a ball in my hand now I could. It was just the effects of the fog. I just needed to feel the floor under my feet and I would be fine.   
  
Sam sat quietly with me until his pager went off. Then he left with another concerned look my way. I would be fine didn't he know that?  
  
"Logan, I'll be back in a while so we can talk." I nodded my head but we didn't really need to talk. I just needed to feel the floor under my feet.  
  
Sam and Bling moved out into the hall to have a whispered conference. I couldn't understand why everyone was whispering around me with those worried looks. Didn't they know I was fine? Sam himself said that the pain would eventually ease. I could endure it for a while. No problem. I just needed to feel the floor under my feet. I was already sitting up so I just swung my legs over the side of the bed and let myself slide off. But I couldn't find the floor. I couldn't feel the floor. I couldn't feel the floor!  
  
"It's okay Logan. I've got you." Bling caught me in mid-air. I tried to push him away and explain that I just needed to feel the floor under my feet. I don't know how many times I repeated it before I blacked out.  
  
When I woke up both Bling and Sam were hovering worriedly over me.   
  
"Logan, I'm so sorry." Bling's voice was full of sorrow. As I looked into Bling's and Sam's eyes I knew it was true.   
  
Why didn't they let me die with the others? Why did they have to wake me up from one nightmare world into another? I couldn't even get lost in the fog any more. I had nothing to say. I stared at them in silence. Sam and Bling sat quietly with me. All they could offer me was their presence. They were out of words. They knew nothing they could say would ever change things.  
  
I couldn't relax and let myself sleep. I didn't want to fall asleep and forget about this then wake up and have to be reminded again. I fought sleep and exhaustion until my body refused to stay awake. Then the nightmares started again. Despite my exhaustion I was awake again twenty minutes later gasping for air.  
  
The final week in the hospital was the worst. I hate hospitals. I couldn't sleep at night. The nightmares constantly woke me up. I couldn't sleep during the day. The noise and the smell overwhelmed me. I couldn't eat. I couldn't relax for a moment, as a stream of medical staff performed a battery of tests. I spent most of my days anticipating, enduring and recovering from procedure after procedure. After last week I'll be happy if I never see another needle again in my life.   
  
A couple of times a day Bling would sit me in a chair for a few minutes to begin to develop my sitting tolerance. The first time we tried it, it was all I could do to keep myself from passing out from the pain. I just sat there with my eyes squeezed shut, trying not to breathe as tears streamed down my face and searing pain consumed my body. Thankfully after a minute that felt like an eternity, Bling lifted my back into bed. I'm glad we began when we did though, otherwise I would never been able to tolerate the ride home yesterday. Even after the time Bling put into preparing me I still barely hung on by a thread.  
  
And if that wasn't enough, I also had the nursing staff with their endless cycle of turnings to look forward to.   
  
"Mr. Cale, your body can no longer tell your brain when you've been in a position too long. If we don't turn you regularly you could develop severe pressure sores. Unchecked the wounds could easily progress as deep as the bone, precipitating a life threatening situation. We must do everything to prevent that." Nurse after nurse gave me the same story reminding me of how absolutely useless I had become, not that things are any better now. I still can't turn myself over in bed. So every two hours, day and night, asleep or awake they changed my position, alternately propping me on my left side, then on my right side and finally on my back, in an endless torturous cycle. Pressure relief, they call it, though I wouldn't define it as that.   
  
The thing I hate the most though, is the daily round of catheterizations. Every four hours like clockwork, 2pm, 6pm, 10pm, 2am, 6am, 10am, a nurse snaked a tube inside me to prevent my bladder from exploding and killing me. I shouldn't feel it they said. Well I didn't need to 'feel' it to feel completely invaded. And it didn't make me 'feel' any better to learn that I would probably have to live with those catheters the rest of my life. Each time that tube enters my body a piece of me dies. If nothing else works I can always count on the 2am cathing to pull me out of any nightmares and place me firmly back into the nightmare of my new reality.   
  
Needless to say, Bling kept looking at me with increasing concern. After a couple of days of this I could see he was desperate to get me out of there. He started a search for rehab beds but couldn't find anything. I strained to hear him on the phone in the hall explaining my situation.  
  
"I understand that you are not an acute care facility. That's why I called you. We are looking for a less institutional environment." Then there was a long pause. "Thanks, anyway." Bling would hang up and try another number.  
  
"I know that resources are tight right now. I can provide any additional nursing support that might be needed. Please could you could just make this one exception?" With each call Bling's voice became increasingly tense.  
  
"I know you have a waiting list. But he can't wait another month. He could be dead by then!" Dead? Did he really mean that? I didn't want to die in that place. I just wanted to go home. Bling walked in trying to appear hopeful but I could see the concern in his eyes.  
  
"Logan I've tried several places but the standard wait for a rehab bed is at least a month. I even tried to call in a few favors for you, but they were really concerned that you haven't even recovered from the surgery yet. I've still got a few more on my list, maybe one of them can find a space for you. I promise no matter what we will get you out of here within a couple of days. You shouldn't have to endure this place any longer than necessary. I'll do whatever it takes."  
  
"Bling, could I please just go home?" I asked, voicing the only thing that I wanted.  
  
"Home?" There was a long pause. I could tell that he was ready to consider almost anything at that point. "Let me check out your place and I'll get back to you."   
  
That afternoon Bling returned with a thoughtful look on his face. "Your apartment is not bad, everything is on one floor and you have elevator accessibility. With a few adaptations I think it could work for you. My only concern is that you are going home so early. Most people spend at least one month in the hospital and several months in rehab. You are going to need twenty-four hour support for a long time. It can be hard to find."  
  
"I'll go along with whatever you say as long as I can get out of here." I said with determination. If I stayed in that hospital much longer I knew I would die and I didn't want to die in that place. If I was going to die I wanted to do it at home.  
  
"Sounds good. I'll see who I can find." He gave me an encouraging smile and turned to walk out.  
  
I called him back but then I hesitated. I wanted to ask him if he would be willing to stay with me. I knew that home care wasn't his job, but I felt like he was the only reason I had made it so far. I was afraid I wouldn't make it at home without him. I wanted to tell him how desperately I needed him, but I didn't know how to ask. So instead I asked him about his other clients and how things were going with them.  
  
"Logan do you want me to go home with you?" There was a compassion and understanding in his eyes as he asked me. When I nodded my assent he gave me another encouraging smile.   
  
"Okay." He said simply, assuring me that we could work it out.  
  
I don't know why Bling was willing to sacrifice his other work for me, but I am grateful that he is here with me now. I've had lots of good people in my life before, loving parents, knowledgeable teachers, inspiring mentors, but no one has ever exhibited the kindness and dedication that Bling has been giving me.  
  
Yesterday I was gripped by the worst back spasm I have ever endured. I was trying to do some writing when it hit. I can't even remember what I was writing about. The pain was so intense that it blocked everything out. I had back spasms regularly in the hospital, brought on by stress and immobility, but this one was the worst. It was probably a result of the exertion from the move home. I thought that I was going to die from the pain. But the moment it hit Bling was at my side. I plead with him not to move me, the pain was so bad, but he somehow got me out of the chair and lying down. He worked on my back until the spasms eased and I was able to breathe again.   
  
There is something about Bling's presence that puts me at ease. After the spasm I was exhausted, but I wouldn't allow myself to sleep. I couldn't face another round of nightmares. Bling helped me get comfortable then promised he would sit beside me while I slept. I haven't needed anyone to do that for me since I was three years old, when Dad would sit with me after a childhood nightmare. I don't know why having Bling near me helps me feel safe. Maybe it's because he's the one that pulled me out of that nightmare world, but with him beside me I was finally able to relax enough to sleep. And boy did I sleep, three hours in the afternoon and then the whole night. It was ten hours all together. Ten hours! I even slept through the 2am cathing, though Bling told me that even in my sleep I tried to bat the catheter away.   
  
"You're exhibiting some sensory response," he said thoughtfully this morning. "Might be time for a change in program." He added giving me the first good news I've had since I woke up in that hospital bed. I would do anything to get rid of those catheters. If what Bling said is true, that would be a miracle in itself.  
  
This morning I don't feel quite so exhausted. I'm sitting by the window again waiting for Bling to get us some breakfast and watching the sunrise. I think the sun is the only beautiful thing left in this world. I'm glad to be able to see it again. Today I feel like I might make it, that I might live. I'm not sure if I want to yet, if I can face this life, but at least today I feel like it might be physically possible. For now I am just grateful to be home. 


	8. Th May 9, 2019 - I Should Have...(Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: None  
A/N: Wow! Thanks everyone for your awesome feedback. You are all so right. The emotional and the physical are the two keys to Logan. So we'll be delving into both in the chapters to come.  
  
Chapter 8: Thursday May 9, 2019 - I Should Have...  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Thursday May 9, 2019  
  
I've been thinking about the transfer today about what I did wrong. How I could have done things differently. If there was any way I could have anticipated the leak or if I could have better protected Lauren and Sophy. I've been replaying those days leading up to the shooting in my head, looking for a clue as to why this happened, why they died while in my care.  
  
The phone has been ringing incessantly, the calls started coming in yesterday afternoon. Everyone is calling, family, friends of the family, informants, and journalists. I knew they would catch up to me eventually but I just can't face them with their condolences and best wishes. I barely know most of these people. To them I am just Logan Cale, the rich boy journalist, that somehow got himself involved in a sensational shoot-out. To others I am the link to Eyes Only. The assistant that gets their information through to the only one that can help them. And to my family I am the black sheep the one that is bound to bring them trouble and shame.  
  
Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margo have been asking to visit. I don't know why they are so insistent, they don't care about me. I am the family fool, the loser, the one that won't conform. I don't want to see the looks in their eyes, the condescension, pity, disapproval and disgust. I don't need them to tell me that I should hate myself. I already do. They came by the hospital last week, Aunt Margo sweeping in with cards and flowers and false affection. They were only there for five minutes before Bling ushered them out. He could sense my discomfort at having them there. That something was not right between us. He has been shielding me from them ever since. He didn't tell anyone when we were going home so I could have a day or two of peace, but now they have found me. They have all found me.  
  
Bling has been encouraging me to take some of the calls to talk to my "friends". What he doesn't know is I have no friends. I have family and I have informants, but neither of them are my friends. There are a few people, like Matt Sung, whom I respect but they are the ones I want to talk to least of all. What would I tell him? That my family is right? That I am a spoiled rich kid who was playing at saving the world? That I am responsible for the deaths of four people including a beautiful child? That I am the failure my family always knew I was?  
  
It's ironic that the ones I was supposed to protect are dead and I am alive. I deserve this wheelchair that I'm in and all the pain that goes with it. The pain in my back is nothing compared to the pain in my heart. It's nothing compared to the guilt that I feel. I would gladly accept all the physical pain in the world if it could somehow remove the knife that is cutting through my soul right now. Why was I so arrogant? Why did I encourage Lauren to trust me? Why did she allow me to put her and her daughter in danger? I should have known that some day something would go sideways. I should never have trusted witness protection. I should have known that anyone can be bought. I should have known that there would be a leak. I should have taken greater precautions. I should have chosen a different time and place. I should have run faster. I should have fought harder. I should have done it all differently. I should have died with them.  
  
A bullet in the back  
  
An insufficient price  
  
For failure  
  
A child's smile  
  
Gone forever  
  
A knife in my soul  
  
I've been sitting here watching the rain for hours hoping that the phone will stop ringing. That all these people will eventually forget about me. Hoping that if I wait here long enough I can disappear from this world. That the damage I have done will disappear with me. That the rain will wash away the blood that I have spilled.  
  
When I look at the rain it seems to me that the heavens are crying for us, pouring out the sorrows of our broken world like so many tears on my windowpanes. Tears for those that have died and for those of us that are still living. Tears that I don't have the strength to shed.  
  
Rain falling  
  
On a broken world  
  
Tears for the living  
  
And the dead  
  
A/N: I hope you are ready for more as Logan struggles to get his life back. More chapters to come shortly. This stuff is just pouring out of me. 


	9. Sun May 12, 2019 - I Can Do Anything (Pi...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: None  
  
A/N: A shorter one for today to tide you over while I clean up about a half dozen new entries for posting. Expect a lot more soon!  
  
Chapter 9: Sunday May 12, 2019 - I Can Do Anything   
  
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Sunday May 12, 2019  
  
9:30 am  
A few minutes ago the ringing of the phone dragged me awake. I groggily rolled over to check the time and retrieve my glasses from the night table. I was sitting up with my glasses on when Bling walked in and we exchanged our usual good mornings.   
  
"Mornin'."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"How're you feelin'?"  
  
"Fine."   
  
Then I noticed the quizzical expression on his face and realized what I had said and done. Fine. I felt fine. I didn't feel any pain and I was sitting up like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. I had completely forgotten that I hadn't been able to sit up by myself since the shooting. The pain has been so intense. Each morning Bling would come in to help me up. He would roll me on my side and the first wave of pain would hit. He would swing my legs over the edge of the bed and another wave would follow. Then he would sit me up and inevitably another wave would accompany that as well. A stab of pain has accompanied my every move throughout these weeks.  
  
It must have been easing the last few days but I hadn't really noticed. The pain has been such a constant. I've spent so much time and energy preparing myself for it, steeling myself against it, working through it, trying to breathe. I couldn't even remember what it was like to be pain free. But now I realized it was gone. Just like that.   
  
Sure I still have aches and pains but I know they are nothing that a change of position or a short massage can't take care of. But that viselike stabbing pain, that paralyzing pain that took my breath away each time I moved is gone.  
  
I am pain free. I can't explain this feeling of freedom. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet. I'm still sitting here trying to capture it, to write it down. But there are no words to describe it. There are no words.   
  
I feel like I can do anything.  
  
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A/N 1: It was about time for a happier interlude wasn't it?   
  
A/N3: I can't thank you guys enough for your awesome comments. They are so appreciated and definitely help me to do a better job.  
  
A/N 3: Thanks Zanna for your comments amount Lauren and Sophy. Am I being cruel having Logan think that they are dead? I just can't help feeling that he couldn't have known right away that they made it. I promise I won't torture him for too long.  
  
  
  
  



	10. Th May 16, 2019 - Frustration (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
  
  
A/N: Enough with the lighter moments. It's time for some more frustration.  
  
Chapter 10: Thursday May 16, 2019 - Frustration   
  
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Thursday May 16, 2019  
On Sunday morning I wrote that I felt like I could do anything. But the truth is I am still almost totally dependent on Bling. I realized this a few minutes after making that ridiculous entry. I still needed Bling to help me out of bed. I still needed him to help me get dressed. I still needed him to wheel me into the living room and set me up on the couch. I just didn't have the strength or the endurance to do any of those things. I thought that getting out from under the grip of the pain would give me some freedom but in actuality I felt more trapped than ever before. I wanted to do so much but my body still wouldn't comply.   
  
I've been hounding Bling for days to start my rehab program but he kept insisting that I needed to wait at least two weeks to heal adequately from the surgery. What Bling didn't know was that I couldn't wait two weeks. I felt like I could barely wait another hour. I don't know how I made it through the last few days; the pressure has been so intense.   
  
By Sunday evening I was pleading with Bling to start the rehab program and by Monday night I was desperate. He answered with the same question each day.   
  
"How many days have you been home from the hospital?" I hated that question.  
  
"Six." The day before the answer was five.  
  
"I said, you need to wait two weeks." Bling was so matter of fact. There was no room to move him. It was then that I lost it and started yelling at him.  
  
"I can't wait two weeks! I can't wait another day! I need to do something now!" I was ready to explode.   
  
Bling responded by giving me one of his compassionate looks and telling me he couldn't make things go any faster. That he was afraid I would end up back at the hospital.   
  
Wrong answer.   
  
I stopped listening to him then and wheeled myself to the window. I made a decision. If Bling wouldn't help me I would help myself. I would get out of this chair by myself even if it killed me. I just needed to bide my time until the inevitable opportunity presented itself. I've spent most of the last few days staring out that window watching the rain trying and waiting for that opportunity.   
  
Today I got what I was waiting for. When Bling l left for the market for a few minutes I took matters into my own hands and attempted to transfer myself onto the couch. Looking back now it was pretty obvious I wouldn't make it but I didn't care. I had to do something. I had to move. I had to get out of this chair, if even for a moment. I didn't consider what I would do if I landed on the floor. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. I truly didn't care. Of course that is exactly what happened.  
  
Bling walked back in just after I hit the floor. By then I was so angry and frustrated I didn't let him help me. I yelled at him not to touch me and glared at him with fury. I don't know how I managed it but somehow I got myself turned around and sitting on the floor. And from the look in his eyes Bling was ready to kill me too.  
  
Then a moment later he shocked me by telling me we would start rehab tomorrow. I didn't believe him after all the frustration he put me through. Then he started to laugh. He laughed at me! He said he didn't want to be scraping my sorry body off the apartment floor every day. I couldn't help laughing as well. He was so right. If something didn't change I would have done the same thing tomorrow and the next day until I succeeded or killed myself.  
  
So today I was rewarded for my ridiculous escapade by getting what I had been begging for, pleading for these last few days.  
  
Tomorrow we start rehab.  
  
  



	11. Fri May 17, 2019 - Miracles (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
Feedback: Always Welcome! Just email me at afanofda@yahoo.com   
  
A/N: Logan enjoys an unexpected miracle as he starts to put his life back together.  
  
Chapter 11: Friday May 17, 2019 - Miracles Come in Different Forms   
  
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Friday May 17, 2019   
  
9:30 am  
I'm sitting here by the window waiting for Bling to finish setting up the training table for our first rehab session. Yesterday I was so impatient for us to start but this morning I'm hoping that Bling will take his time setting up. Now that it's here I am extremely nervous about today. Am I really ready? Will I be able to do the work? Will my body cooperate or will I fall flat on my face? I don't trust myself anymore. My judgement is unreliable. Bling seems to think that I am ready. I just hope that I don't disappoint him.  
  
As I look out the window I can't shake this feeling of being watched, that there really is someone out there. Maybe my angel is back today hiding on that roof across the street. It would be so nice knowing that there was someone else out there watching out for me, pulling for me. I could use all the help I could get right now.  
  
  
1:00 p.m.  
Before we even got started I gave Bling a hard time about how short our session was going to be. Only one hour. What could we possibly accomplish in an hour? Bling said it would be enough. He was right of course. One hour was more than enough. By the end of our session I was exhausted.  
  
We worked on core stability and muscular endurance. Bling guided me through a series of exercises for abdominals, arms, chest and back. He helped me get situated lying on my back on the training table. He stood at my side and stabilized my legs as we began with some abdominal work. We didn't do a single situp. Instead he had me focus on isolating and contracting each muscle group. Bling mentioned that my injury was at thorasic vertebra number eight "T8". As a result I would have varying amounts motor control in my abdominals. He described each muscle group as we progressed, upper abdominals (rectus abdominus), diagonal abdominals (internal and external obliques), lower abdominals (transversus). I have no trasversus control at all but I do have good rectus control and a little control of my obliques. They are significantly affected by my injury, but if I focus hard I can feel a contraction. Bling was very impressed that I could do that. He said I had excellent abdominal control relative to the location of my injury and that it was a strong base to build upon. Still I was surprised at how difficult even a few simple contractions could be.  
  
Then we moved on to the bench press. Bling placed a couple of dumbbells in my hands and moved to the head of the table to spot me as I worked through the repetitions. The weights he offered me were laughable. They were almost no weight at all. But it was all I could do to complete a set of ten repetitions. Finally Bling helped me into a sitting position. He supported my back as we completed several more upper body exercises. He kept up a constant commentary as we worked, explaining each exercise and its purpose, giving me technique cues and encouraging me along. I learned more about strength training in our session today than I had in my whole life previously. After twenty minutes I was breathing hard and wasn't able to do much more. Bling said I did good work. I can't believe how much I needed to hear that.  
  
We spent about ten minutes stretching the areas we had just worked. It felt so good to relax into the stretches and allow the tension of the workout and the day to ease out of my body.  
  
Then Bling completely shocked me by what he said next.  
  
"Okay, now we will work on the range of motion in your hips, knees and ankles. Even though you can't feel it right now I want you to think relaxed and free. This is one of the most important things we will do each day even if we do nothing else. We need to maintain the elasticity in your leg muscles and to keep the synovial fluid moving in your joints. This is essential for you to be able to walk again." He said it so calmly and matter-of-factly there appeared to be no question in his mind that I would walk again.   
  
Walk again?  
  
Bling spent the remaining time working on my legs. I was just a passive participant in this part; there wasn't much I could offer. So I just lay there repeatedly replaying in my head what he had just said. "This is essential for you to be able to walk again."  
  
I haven't even thought about walking again. I so hope it is true. I would give anything for that to happen. But I can't even consider walking right now. It seems too impossible, too far away. All I want right now is to be able to get out of this chair on my own.   
  
9:00 p.m.  
Bling introduced me to the slide board this afternoon. It's really just a simple tool that assists me in completing transfers into and out of the wheelchair. After yesterday's fiasco I know I don't have the strength to do that by myself right now. Bling seems to think I'll be able to in a few weeks but he gave me the slide board to use in the meantime. All I need to do is place one end under my hip and the other end on the couch or bed then slide my self over. The board supports my bodyweight so it is surprisingly effective and simple to use. I tried it dozens of times today, getting the feel of it and each time my grin grew wider and wider. I couldn't help it. It felt like a miracle.  
  
Bling gave me a precious gift today. He gave me back some of my freedom. I wasn't expecting any miracles today, but I still received one. Maybe there really is an angel watching over me.  
  
Now I can get in or out of the chair any time I want. It's a most amazing feeling being able to perform that simple act by myself. I can slide onto the bed by myself and read for a few hours. If I'm thirsty or want a snack I can climb out, go to the kitchen, get what I want and return. If I get tired of reading in bed I can slide into the chair and be back here at this window in moment. If I want to sit on the couch while I do some writing I can do that as well. I can do these things without asking for Bling's help. I can do them by myself.  
  
BY MYSELF. These are the most wonderful words in the universe right now. I did not know what freedom was until I lost it. Now after all these weeks of forced dependence I know what it is. I know how sweet even a taste of freedom can be.   
  
It's only 9:00 p.m. but I'm exhausted. I'm trying to finish this off but I can barely keep my eyes open. Today took more out of me than I anticipated. I could go to bed I suppose, although normally I don't really like to. I usually prefer falling asleep in the chair or on the couch rather than asking Bling for help with the transfer onto the bed. But now I can do that by myself. So maybe I will go to bed.   
  
Maybe I will.... Just because I can.  



	12. Sun Jun 30, 2019 - Cracks (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
  
A/N: Logan's shell begins to develop some cracks.  
  
Chapter 12: Sunday June 30, 2019 - Cracks   
  
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Sunday June 30, 2019  
  
Midnight  
  
The last month and a half had been going relatively well. I had a simple routine established. I was able to fill my days without thinking too much, not about the past or the future, just the moment at hand. I rediscovered my library and pulled out books I hadn't read in years. As long as I was reading and filling my brain with fact and fiction I didn't have to think or remember. My rehab sessions were also a welcome escape. During those few hours with Bling I could focus on the physical work at the exclusion of everything else. The rain helped me through the long nights with its comforting rhythm and monotonous tone. I could get lost in it for hours listening to its numbing beats. I didn't even do much writing. There was nothing to think about so there was nothing to write about. I had built a safe insulated world for myself. But now everything has fallen apart.  
  
"Great system you got there. Whadaya use it for?" With that simple question three weeks ago Bling began to dismantle my carefully constructed world.  
  
"Research mostly." I answered. Yeah right! Every journalist requires hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of computer equipment to do his research.  
  
I hated him from bringing the subject up. I was doing just fine not thinking about computers or informant nets or Eyes Only or Peter or Lauren. I hadn't been in the computer room since I came home from the hospital. I hadn't even looked in that direction. I had somehow managed to shut the door on those thoughts. But then the memories and the feelings began creeping back.  
  
So I attempted to refocus. I read more and longer and I worked harder at rehab. I invested all my resources into it and for a while it appeared to work. My sessions with Bling were going extremely well. We increased our training time to three hours each day. I was astounded by the progress I was making. Every day my body would surprise me by doing something completely unexpected. I couldn't believe the strength I was gaining. A month ago I could barely do a single situp even with Bling's support. Then a one day I was able to complete one by myself. The next day I did five and the week after that I did twenty. I made similar progress with the weight training. The weights we started with were extremely light but since then we doubled and tripled them and they were still not enough to challenge me. I was even able to retire my old friend the slide board. The chair transfers that used to be so excruciating had become a breeze. Bling was not surprised. He said my body was returning to the fitness level I enjoyed before my injury. "Muscle Memory" he called it. Whatever it was, I was living for our sessions, for the opportunity to make some progress, for the feeling of accomplishment. Our workouts were the one time I could completely forget about everything else in my life. They were my reprieve.  
  
Two days ago the reprieve ended. Bling was using the computer again and came out to ask me a few questions about the system. I had given him access to it the first time he asked me about it and he used it regularly since then. He might as well because I have no use for it. I was surprised at Bling's knowledge of computer systems. He knew much more than I originally thought. I asked him where he acquired his skills and he told me he had worked some security in the past but he preferred whipping guys like me into shape. I laughed at that.  
  
"You can tell me Logan, get it off you chest." Bling caught me completely off guard with his question.  
  
"I was also doing some security work but my last job went sideways." I tried to be calm as I told him but my barriers were down and the emotions flooded over me.  
  
"Your Doc told me you had been shot when I came on board but he didn't go into the circumstances. It had to do with this last job didn't it?" Bling was looking at me with concern.  
  
"Yeah" I answered him hoping that he wouldn't ask me any more questions. I wished he wouldn't talk about this.  
  
"I have a lot of respect for you Man. It takes a lot of courage to take another's safety into your hands. Sometimes things don't go the way we want but it doesn't mean it wasn't worth doing." He was trying to tell me it was okay but nothing will ever be okay again. How could he respect me? He doesn't know what I have done. He doesn't know about the blood on my hands. He doesn't know the price others had to pay for my mistakes. How could he say it was worth it?  
  
I wish I hadn't talked to him. It has brought me right back into that nightmare again, right back to the shooting watching people die all around me. I thought I had buried these memories. I thought I had built a wall around them. I thought I wouldn't have to experience that nightmare again. But my wall has cracked. The nightmare is back in full force. I can't turn it off. I can't disengage. I can't seem to bury these memories and feelings any more.  
  
Bling keeps pushing me, trying to get me to talk, trying to get me to go outside, trying to get me to answer the calls that are still coming in. He keeps trying to drag me out of myself. Every day it is the same thing.  
  
"Logan, I'm going to the market. Do you want to come along?"  
  
"Logan, I'm heading out on an errand. Do you want to join me?"  
  
"Logan, Detective Sung called again. Are you sure you don't want to talk to him? He's been calling every day. He would love to talk to you."  
  
"Logan, your cousin Bennett called. He is getting engaged. He wanted to tell you personally but asked me to pass on the message."  
  
'Logan, Dr. Shankar called. She wants to know if there is anything she can do for you. She's been calling every week."  
  
"Logan, there is a basketball game on the set. Do you want to watch?"  
  
"Logan, who do you think will win the world championship this year? Kyoto or the Lakers?"  
  
Bling keeps trying to engage me, to get me talking about something, anything. Doesn't he know it's impossible? If I relax for a moment these feelings will overwhelm me. It's all I can do to keep them under control.  
  
Things have deteriorated rapidly in the last two days. I can't stem the flood of fury and self-hatred that is pouring out of me. I can't even get lost in my workouts anymore. The harder I work, the angrier I feel. I keep pulling and pushing at the weights but they won't help me. They won't take these feelings away. Bling keeps telling me to slow down, to pace myself, but that is incomprehensible to me now. I haven't been able to slow down. Bling was so frustrated with me today he took the weights right out of my hands. Then he had the gall to suggest we work on relaxation. Relaxation! What will that do? It won't release the pressure inside me. I told Bling as much and left him in the training room.  
  
I wheeled myself over to the windows and waited for the rain to start. I have been sitting here for hours. I will be spending the night here. I know I won't sleep. I've got my notebook out trying to write something down but I doubt it will make a difference. Everything is an incomprehensible mess. I just hope I can find a few moments of numbness as I watch the rain.  
  
Bling is here beside me, waiting. He hasn't said a word. He's waiting for me to open up, to tell him what is going on. He thinks he can help me. He thinks that if I talk to him things will get better. I wish I could talk to him. But I am afraid that if I open my mouth, if I acknowledge these feelings they will just become more intense. I am afraid I won't be able to control them. I wish I could release some of this load I have been carrying. It's crushing me. I can't hold onto it any longer.  
  



	13. Mon Jul 1, 2019 - Relief and Gratitude (...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan learns that Max rescued Lauren and Sophy  
  
Chapter 13: Monday July 1, 2019 - Relief & Gratitude  
  
Monday July 1, 2019  
  
4:00 am  
  
At 2:00 am this morning I finally let go.  
  
"Tell me about it Logan" Bling's voice was so gentle as he asked me one more time.  
  
"I was protecting Lauren Braganza and her daughter. She was going to testify against Edward Sonrisa. I was trying to get her to witness protection when we were ambushed. I promised her that she and her daughter would be safe but the last thing I remember Sophy was being ripped out of my arms."  
  
"Oh God! What did I do? I'm the great Eyes Only, but I didn't have eyes to see what I was getting that woman and her daughter into. I've got a lot of blood on my hands from that day." With a few words I poured out all my sorrow and self hate at what I had done.   
  
Bling's response was not what I expected.  
  
"It must be really hard man, to loose your whole security crew in one fight. But at least Sonrisa is dead and Ms. Berganza and her daughter got connected with the witness protection program."  
  
"She did?" I couldn't believe my ears. I so was sure everyone had been killed.   
  
"You didn't know? Nobody told you?" Bling was incredulous.  
"I've been kinda out of the loop." I could barely get the words out. I had been so sick in the hospital I never thought to ask. Since I came home the only person I had spoken to was Bling and I had never let him talk about this. I had tried so hard to bury it all.  
  
"They made it? But my guys didn't..." I felt like the knife had finally been removed from my heart. I could rejoice for Lauren and Sophy and I could grieve for my crew.  
  
Bling was talking about how Sonrisa was killed. He was saying Sonrisa's bodyguard shot him, but no one knew why. Then I realized what happened.  
  
"Max." I spontaneously whispered her name.  
  
"Max?" Bling looked at me in surprise. "I recognize that name. She's the girl that got you away from the second sniper attempt. Your Doc told me about her. She told him you needed a room with a better view. Then she disappeared." Bling was almost amused when he said this.  
  
Sam had mentioned a second attempt on my life but it was all part of the cloud around me as I struggled to regain consciousness in the hospital. I couldn't remember the details of anything. But now I knew. "A room with a better view." Max's sarcasm never fails her. She had visited me at the hospital. It wasn't all just a dream.   
  
Max had come back. She saved my life and Lauren's and Sophy's and she eliminated Sonrisa. I was so right about her. She does care deeply about other people. She must have put herself at extreme risk to make this happen.  
  
"Has she called yet?" I asked Bling. I suddenly felt an intense desire to talk to her, to thank her for being there for me. She came back when I needed her most. She really is out there pulling for me. I do have an angel watching over me.   
  
I rolled over to the window and stared at the spot where I thought I had seen her before. It was almost 3:00 am and it appeared that there was no one out there, but I couldn't help feeling that she was there for me.  
  
"Thank you Max." I whispered into the night hoping that somewhere, somehow she could hear me.   
  
  
A/N: I'd love to hear how you felt reading the last two chapters. Please R&R.  



	14. Wed Jul 3, 2019 - Sunrise (Pilot)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan finally ventures out into the world.  
  
Chapter 14: Wednesday July 3, 2019 - Sunrise  
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Wednesday July 3, 2019  
  
5:00 am  
These last two months my apartment has been my refuge from the world. I've been able to avoid people and problems, questions and accusing looks. I've been able to insulate myself from all the things I don't have the strength to deal with any more. My apartment has been the one place where I could feel safe.   
  
Bling has been telling me I can't spend the rest of my life here, that I need more in my life. He has been trying to coax me outside, encouraging me to go out with him, to go on errands or just across the street to the park. He's been encouraging me to take the calls that are still coming in. But how can I? I feel like I don't belong in that world any more, that I won't be able to function in it. How am I going to deal with stairs and curbs and traffic and people?   
  
It's the people that I am most afraid of, the looks in their eyes and the tone in their voices when they talk to me. I can't stand the look of pity. I saw it in aunt Margo's eyes for five minutes in the hospital and it was enough to last me a lifetime. I can't bear to see that again.   
  
I've been up all night again trying to fight the demons that keep chasing me. Even finding out about Sophy hasn't changed much. I still feel like a failure. If I wasn't a failure Peter wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't be in this chair. I feel like I don't deserve to be out there. I don't deserve to go into the world and pretend that everything is fine.  
  
But now my refuge is beginning to feel like a prison. As I look at the sunrise this morning I wish I could be outside feeling the sun on my skin. I wish I could feel the wind in my hair again. I wish I could get wet the next time it rains. But I don't think those things are possible for me any more. I wish I could go out there but I don't think I can.  
  
  
  
10:00 am  
  
"It's beautiful isn't it?" Bling joined me at the window this morning.  
  
"Yeah, I can't remember the last time I had the sun shining on my face." I answered yearning to be outside.  
  
"Let's go down and really enjoy it." My heart started racing at the suggestion but Bling kept talking as he handed me my jacket. "We'll just go as far as the curb. We'll have the street to ourselves. Everybody is still asleep. You'll see it's not so bad out there."  
  
Bling kept up the encouraging comments as I hesitatingly followed him into the elevator. But when he held open the lobby doors for me it still took all my determination not to turn around and escape back inside.   
  
I felt totally exposed and vulnerable. I almost expected a thousand eyes to be staring at me, pointing and whispering to each other "That's him that fool Eyes Only. He thought he could change the world but look at him now. Just another useless cripple."  
  
But Bling was true to his word. The street was quiet except for a few birds waking up to the sunlight. We found a space near the corner where we could sit and watch the sunrise. I was able to set aside my apprehension as the sun's rays wrapped themselves around us. We remained there until the sun was full in the sky neither of us wanting to disturb the peace of the moment.   
  
Sometimes the world can still be a beautiful place.  
  



	15. Wed Jul 10, 2019 A Quick Trip Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: None  
  
A/N: Logan goes for a quick drive to the market. Boring Huh?  
  
Chapter 15: Wednesday July 10, 2019 - A Quick Trip  
  
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Wednesday July 10, 2019  
  
Today, for the first time, I got in the car and went for a drive by myself. We needed a few things from the farmers' market across town so I told Bling I would be happy to drive over there and pick them up. When he got up to go with me I told him I'd like to go alone. When he tried to resist I gave him my best I'm-going-to-do-what-I-want-and-nothing-you-can-say-will-stop-me look. Bling has seen that look several times in the last two months so he just let me go. It's almost ironic that only a week ago I needed to be coaxed out of the apartment but now I was determined to go out on my own.  
  
The car came back from the shop last week. Adapting to the new hand levers was easy. I learned how to use them that first day. But I discovered that getting myself and the wheelchair into and out of the car was more difficult than expected. I've been doing transfers at home with no problem, but with the door in the way and the difference in access angles the car was a different story. Bling and I spent most of the week working on adaptations. Yet even with Bling's help I struggled to complete the transfers.  
  
Now I insisted on doing it by myself. I wasn't really ready, Bling knew it and I knew it but he silently tossed me the cell phone, an unspoken "just in case" and let me go.   
  
The elevator ride to the parkade seemed too slow. I needed to get outside now. I had enough of helplessness and dependence. It was time to take back some of my life.   
  
I wheeled over to the passenger side of the car so I wouldn't have to contend with the steering wheel as well as the door. I opened the door and aligned the chair with the passenger seat. I set the brakes and placed my feet on the ground. The angle of the door prevented a typical transfer so Bling and I had worked on a modification. I placed my left hand on the dashboard and my right hand behind me on the handlebar of the chair. I leaned forward as far as I could, simultaneously tipping the chair with my right hand and allowing myself to slip onto the car seat. From the angle I was in I could see that my hips was barely on the edge of the seat. I quickly let go of the chair and pushed against the backrest and dashboard to get myself further into the car. There was no way I was going to land on my butt on the concrete floor today.  
  
I let my legs dangle outside the door as I reached for the chair and folded it. If getting myself into the car was physically challenging, getting the chair in behind me was just plain frustrating. If I could get the small front wheels into the narrow space behind the seat then the rest would follow. Bling and I had worked on this the longest but as yet we had not found a better solution. My angle was not the best so I had to rely on force, momentum and sheer luck to pop the wheels over the edge of the car. After about ten attempts they finally popped over. The rest of the chair slid in relatively easily.   
  
Next I turned my attention to getting myself behind the wheel. I pulled my legs into the car then shut the door behind me. I pushed myself over to the driver's side moving a few inches at a time then stopping to pull my legs along. When I finally got the key in the ignition and the car started it was the sweetest sound I ever hear. I looked at the clock and realized it had taken me twenty minutes just to get into the car. I didn't care. It could have taken an hour and I still would have done it.  
  
I drove to the market and repeated it all again in reverse order to get out of the car. I wheeled through the maze of shops and picked up a few things. I couldn't even remember what we needed but I figured I should go back with something to show for my effort.  
  
Two hours later, after repeating the process two more times, I rolled back into the apartment with my prizes. Bling looked at me with amusement as I silently tossed the unused cell phone back at him. As I rolled into the kitchen to begin preparing for dinner I couldn't keep the smile off my face.   
  
Me gloat? Never!  
  
As I think about it now I can't help but smile again. But I have to admit that a quick trip to the market will never mean the same thing to me ever again.  
  
A/N: Just a short look at a typical day for Logan. Hope it wasn't too boring. Please R&R  
  
  



	16. Mon Jul 15, 2019 Never Again Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan makes some decisions about the direction his life will take.  
  
Chapter 16: Monday July 15, 2019 - Never Again  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Monday July 15, 2019  
  
I placed myself back on the front lines of the war this morning. Turning on my computer and clicking on that first file was probably one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I was sure that Eyes Only had died in the ambush along with Peter and my legs. But now as I review everything that has come over the informant net in the last three months I know that I will never abandon my responsibilities again.  
  
I am still alive and being alive I am still involved in this world. The thugs and the powerbrokers didn't take a break while I wasted these last three months getting my head on straight. They were hard at it carving out pieces of the world for themselves. Evil does flourish when good men do nothing. I've had enough of doing nothing, of nursing my own wounds, of hiding from the world.  
  
Yet even as late as last night I didn't think I could do this. Bling asked me again why I didn't bring Eyes Only back as he has asked me every day since I revealed it to him.   
  
I answered with a lame excuse about not having the energy for it anymore, about being an idiot to think I could change the world. I told him sarcastically that I did manage to change something. I made a mess of a lot of people's lives including my own.  
  
What a load of Crap!  
  
Bling essentially told me as much. I could see the frustration in his face as he pulled out the full-length mirror from the bathroom and asked me to look in it. I took a quick glance at myself and looked away in shame. Shame at what I had done and shame at what I was doing now.  
  
Bling insisted that I look again. "Really look," he said "and tell me what you see."   
  
Did he really want to know? Then I would tell him. That would get him off my back. The crap flowed out of my mouth easily enough.  
  
"I see a man who screwed up his life and the lives of those that relied on him. I screwed up the one thing I thought I was good at and it cost my friends' lives. I'm working so hard to gain some freedom from this chair but sometimes I feel I deserve this steel trap that I'm in. That I'm being punished for my arrogance, in thinking that I could change the world."  
  
Bling didn't buy it at all. "Let me tell you what I see." He said, then he described a person I barely knew. He described a man with courage and determination, a man who was willing to fight battles against impossible odds, a man who had paid a heavy price for freedom. He said he would follow and fight for and die with that man. As he said this he was looking directly at me as if I was that man.  
  
I used to think that I was a person like that, but now all I was seeing was a damaged shell. I stared in that mirror for hours searching inside myself for the man I used to be, the man I wanted to be.  
  
So today I decided I will be that man. I will do whatever it takes. I will stay engaged in the war. If my legs are a casualty so be it. If I lose more friends who want to fight, so be it. If I die, so be it.   
  
I will never give up the fight.  
  
Never again.  
  
  
  



	17. Th Jul 18, 2019 Bast Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan finds the statue of Bast  
  
Chapter 17: Thursday July 18, 2019 - Bast  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Thursday July 18, 2019  
  
The statue of Bast turned up on the black market today. Max's statue. It was on a regular list that comes through the informant net every day. We use it to match unique stolen goods with their rightful owners.   
  
Max obviously sold her for some quick cash. But I'm not going to let Max give her up that easily. That statue is a symbol of what Max could be. It's a symbol of her power and her responsibility and I'm not going to let her give these up that easily either. She does have a responsibility to the world whether she acknowledges it or not. We all do. And I won't let her forget it.  
  
I am confident that Max will be back. She won't be able to stay away. She took out Sonrisa and reunited Sophy with her mother, not to mention saving my life. When you succeed at something like that everything changes. You realize you can change the world. You can make a difference. Max knows that now. She will be back looking for more and I will be ready for her.  
  
  



	18. Fri Jul 19, 2019 There for Me Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan's thoughts turn towards Max  
  
Chapter 18: Friday July 19, 2019 - She is there for me  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Friday July 19, 2019  
  
I have been thinking about Max a lot lately. She was there in that hospital room when I needed her most and I can't help feeling that she will be there for me again. Even though she hasn't contacted me she has been in my thoughts and in my dreams. Since that first torturous day when I came home, when I thought I saw her on the roof across the street, she has encouraged me to go on. I've caught other glimpses of her in the park and on the street pedaling away in the distance. It's almost as if she has been watching me from afar as I struggle to put my life back together. She is my dark angel after all, hiding in the shadows. Just knowing that she might be out there has helped me get through the endless rainy nights and painful days. I feel drawn to her, like we have an inexplicable bond. I feel like we can help each other survive the curves that life throws at us. I feel like we can change the world together. I know she will show up soon. We have so much work to do together.  
  
Dark Angel  
Hiding in the shadows of my life  
  
Guardian Angel  
Watching over the struggles of my days  
  
Dream Angel  
Driving away the nightmare of my nights  
  
My Angel  
Lightening the burdens of my soul  
  



	19. Tues Jul 23, 2019 Spilled Milk Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N: Logan considers the consequences of his new life.  
  
Chapter 19: Tuesday July 23, 2019 - Spilled Milk  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Tuesday July 23, 2019  
  
Bling and I have spent the last twelve hours chasing down leads on the Andrea Marlene file. It appears that the harbormaster Joel Solinsky has been taking payoffs from a lucrative smuggling operation. The smugglers were being paid in advance so they never bothered delivering their cargo to its destination. They have just been dumping it overboard in the open seas. The only problem is the cargo is human beings, people who paid thousands of dollars in the hope of a better life somewhere. Joel Solinsky has made his fortune as an accessory to murder. This can't go on any longer. We are making good progress on the file. Tomorrow we will be making an Eyes Only broadcast, our first step in shutting him down.  
  
I really appreciate having Bling by my side. He has been my rock these last few months. He has helped me to get my life back on track. He gave me a compliment today. He said I was doing well and he wasn't talking about Eyes Only. He was talking about me personally. He said I was on the right road. I really needed to hear that from him given how I behaved last night. I know I still have a long way to go.  
  
At times my "new life" still overwhelms me. Even the smallest things can send me over the edge. I can't believe the fury I felt last night at knocking a pitcher of milk out of the refrigerator. I vented my anger on the refrigerator door, slamming it so hard that most of the refrigerator's contents joined the milk on the floor. Then I turned my wrath on Bling. But the truth is, it was not the shattered pitcher that bothered me it was the fact that I forgot to leave enough clearance between my chair and the refrigerator. When I opened the door it bumped my chair and knocked the pitcher out.  
  
Sometimes I get so tired of the constant reminders that I no longer have a normal life. Of having to think if my chair is in the way of a door. Or of how I'm going to get around or over or through an obstacle. Of having to renovate the bathroom so I can wheel in to take a shower and put bars by the toilet so I don't fall off and break my neck at night. Of building a lower worktable in the kitchen so I can cook and of having to move everything into the lower cupboards because the high ones are useless to me now. Of having to call ahead to see if there are stairs or elevators where I want to go. Of having to think about and plan every move that I make. I'm tired of slide boards and hand levers in the car and all the other miraculous aids that I can't live without but remind me of my disability every moment of every day. I just wish I could have one day when I wasn't reminded of these things.  
  
Bling gets to experience my frustrations first hand. Yet he has always been there for me. He was there for me again last night. I knew I had overreacted yet it still took me an hour to calm down enough to apologize to him. "It's no use crying over spilled milk." I acknowledged once I regained some of my perspective. Bling accompanied me into the kitchen and helped me clean up my mess. He is an expert at this, cleaning up messes, repairing broken glass, broken bodies and broken souls.  
  
Repair Man  
  
Specializes in repairing  
What others have destroyed  
  
Rescues shattered pieces  
Of collisions and disasters  
  
Rebuilds broken bodies  
Heals broken souls  
  
I find myself alternately apologizing and thanking Bling. It is a constant pattern with us. I thanked him again today for what he has done for me. I've fought him so often, but the truth is he is the one that put me back together. I would probably have died without him. I know I definitely wouldn't be doing what I am doing now. I would still be in a corner somewhere terrified of the world. He has helped me to build a new life.  
  
My life today is not the life I had before I was shot. There are so many things I have lost control over, things that I will never be able to fully accept. But it is my life and I have to live it. I have so much to do. The Solinsky file will need all my attention for the next few days. I don't have time to waste wondering why this happened to me or regretting the things I cannot change. My job is to figure out how to deal with the consequences. I need to focus on the things I can change. I need to focus on my work and the rest I will just live with.  
  
As I said to Bling last night, it's no use crying over spilled milked. I have work to do.  
  



	20. Wed Jul 24, 2019 Max is Back Pilot

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pilot  
Fic Reference: Someone to Watch Over  
  
A/N 1: This is the last entry in Logan's journal that relates to the Pilot. Thanks Aimee, Stasa, Zanna and everyone who has stuck with me on this fic. I have totally appreciated your reviews.  
  
A/N 2: A short break: I figure this is a good time to take a short break from the Cale Diaries. I've got another fic that is itching to be written. But don't worry I'll be back here in a week or two. I've already got the entry for "Heat" partially written.  
  
A/N 3: A Question: How would you like to see the "Diaries" develop? I have already completed some entries for later episodes but I have been holding back on posting them. Should I post them now or should I continue in chronological order? Let me know.  
  
  
A/N: Max visits Logan for the first time after the shooting  
  
Chapter 20: Wednesday July 24, 2019 - Max is back  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Wednesday July 24, 2019  
  
Max chose today to come back into my life. It was no coincidence that she appeared in the middle of my first Eyes Only broadcast since the shooting. She may not even know it but she has been waiting for me to get back to work. Our conversation today proved that to me. The first thing she mentioned was that I was back at it, "rocking the boat".  
  
She walked in with her typical attitude, waiting in the doorway, cautious, aloof.  
  
"I would have come sooner... but I didn't." She hit me with a trademark sarcastic comment right away. Then her face softened as she asked me how I was doing. There was sorrow in her eyes but no surprise. She knew about my injury. I turned away from her then not wanting to see that look in her eyes. I changed the subject as fast as I could. I told her that I didn't know why bad things happened but that our job was to deal with the consequences and that she had.  
  
Since the moment Bling told me that Sonrisa was dead and Lauren and Sophy had escaped I have been convinced that Max was involved. So I congratulated her on taking out Sonrisa and her pleased smile when she said "well, not me personally" confirmed my conviction. She was indeed the one that made it all happen. She orchestrated and executed the whole thing.  
  
I returned Bast to Max today, but her eyes flashed in anger when I asked for her help. She was reluctant to accept her and the implied responsibility that goes with her. She didn't want it to appear that I could purchase her services so cheaply. But the truth is she has already earned that statue. She has reached out, outside herself, and made a difference for the rest of us.   
  
She took several steps away from me as I explained what I needed. But she stayed and listened to what I had to say. I could sense her conflict, wanting to help but telling me she didn't need to get involved. So I pushed her again.  
  
"You are involved. By being alive you're involved." I told her. I said I could change the world... with her help. Her anger and sorrow returned in full force at my request.  
  
'You want to get the rest of your ass shot off be my guest, but I kind of like being able to walk." She looked like she was about to cry. I know those tears were for me. I liked being able to walk too. God knows I hate this chair, it has been an enormous price to pay. But now that I'm in it I need to move forward.  
  
Yet despite her anger and sorrow Max has agreed to work with me. However reluctant she may wish to appear she is ready to do more than hide. The pictures I found confirming that her brother Zack was alive were the final incentive. I will help her find Zack and the others and she will help me with Eyes Only.  
  
We talked for a couple of hours. She filled me in on the developments with Sonrisa. It was very creative pitting his bodyguard against him. We also reviewed the Solinsky file. I am so impressed with her intelligence and tactical skills. She quickly familiarized herself with the facts and provided some practical suggestions for how to further infiltrate Solinsky's organization. She will be back tomorrow to go over our plans in detail. Then all we will need to do is wait for the next shipload of emigrants before we put our plan into action.  
  
Something has changed in Max these last three months. She doesn't seem as afraid as before. She is ready to take some risks if it means making a difference in people's lives. Her conscience has come alive, even though she still tries to hide it. Rescuing Sophy did that for her. She told me that Colonel Lydecker, the man in charge of the X5 program at Manticore, had tracked her to the warehouse where Sophy was being kept. I could see the fear in her eyes as she described him to me, yet she walked right by him with Sophy in her arms. I'm just beginning to get a sense of what Max was subjected to at Manticore, but I already know it must have taken immense courage for her to do that.   
  
I found myself telling Max the same things that I have been telling myself the last few days.  
  
"By being alive you're involved."  
  
"I've never been much for trying to figure out why bad things happen. So the job's to figure out how to deal with the consequences."  
  
"I can change things... with your help."  
  
I can't help feeling that Eyes Only will be able to do so much more with Max on our team, much more than we have ever accomplished in the past.  
  
There still may be hope for peace in our broken down world. Peace. What a valuable commodity, so cherished yet so rare. We spend our whole lives working for it, striving for it and struggling for it. I've certainly struggled to find some in my own life. Yet, despite the turmoil of the last few months I am grateful to be able to take my eyes off myself for a while and offer something to the world. With Max's help I can make a few peoples lives a little better. If we can bring some peace into this world my life will be worth it.  
  
Peace. Out.  



	21. Sun Aug 11, 2019 Fire in Her Eyes Heat

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Heat  
Fic Reference:   
Feedback: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 21: Sunday August 11 - Fire in Her Eyes (Heat)  
Summary: Max and Logan complete their first project.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sunday August 11  
  
10:00 am  
I have my independence back. I am now able to do all I need to function adequately in my "new life". I no longer rely on Bling for everything the way I used to. I have more than enough strength to take care of myself physically and I have made the necessary adjustments to my apartment and car to accommodate the wheelchair. I can go almost anywhere I want and do almost anything I want.   
  
Bling has even moved out recently. There is no reason for him to spend all his time here, so now I only see him during our evening training sessions. He has even picked up some new clients during the day. This arrangement works well for both of us. By the time he arrives here at 8:00 p.m. I'm tired enough of the hacking game that I'm ready to hit the weights for a few hours. It works for Bling as well because not too many of his other clients want to work out at nine o'clock at night.  
  
I could settle into this new routine of Eyes Only work and rehab sessions, but this is what scares me the most. That this might be my life from now on. I look forward to having Bling back tonight for another session. I appreciate the hope he gives me that things will eventually change.   
  
Still, I can't help being concerned. This week, for the first time, I haven't made much progress. Bling says I have reached a plateau. My body needs some time to adapt to my new level of fitness prior to progressing again. He says it is a normal part of any fitness program. He has an explanation for everything.   
  
Maybe if I push myself harder I can work through this plateau a little faster. I know that I will push Bling to do extra sets during our session tonight and I already know that he will turn me down. I can even hear his words "You can't do this all at once. You gotta pace yourself man. Otherwise you'll burn out." I doubt very much that I will burn out. I've worked hard for years and it hasn't hurt me.  
  
Then there is Bling's favorite motto of all "Patience in all things." Sometimes I hate him for giving me hope, but then making me wait. I don't have a lot of capacity for patience right now. I feel like I am in a race against time. I can see that my leg muscles have atrophied significantly. Soon I will be able to circle my thighs with my hands. I am afraid that the longer I stay in this chair the harder it will be to get out. Yet Bling seems unfazed by it. He has me doing more visualization work during our rehab sessions, "feeling" the contractions as he moves my legs. He is confident that I will walk again and I can't help believing him. Everything he tells me he believes so strongly. So I will continue to push myself and to push Bling.  
  
11:00 pm  
Max completed her first job for me today. We spent a lot of time planning the details during the last two weeks and it went off without a hitch. Once we got started Max's eyes were on fire. This is what she has been trained to do and she jumped at the opportunity to use her stuff. We were in perfect sync as we poured over our plans, her skills perfectly complementing mine.   
  
Even after only one job I know that Max is the best partner I have ever had or ever will have. But the best part for me was just having her around. Seeing the fire in her eyes and hearing her acid tongue. I never knew what she would say or do next. Then I'd look up from our work and see the most breathtakingly beautiful face I have ever seen. She brought an enthusiasm and a light into this apartment that I have never seen before.  
  
Max walked in tonight at the tail end of my session with Bling. That fire was back in her eyes as she dumped a wad of cash on the training table. She took off with Joel Solinsky's money and let him and his buddies shoot each other.   
  
"Put three dirtbags in a room and money disappears. Tempers flare. Guns are drawn. Three dead dirtbags." She said in amusement, as if this was all in a day's work for her. Gotta love this girl! She pitted them against each other and let their nasty natures take over.   
  
I couldn't believe the energy that was pouring off her tonight. She must get a bigger rush from going out in the field than I anticipated. While she was talking to me about Solinsky and his victims her eyes were burning holes right through me. I couldn't even look back at her. I moved away but I could still feel her eyes drilling through my back. What was that?   
  
In a second the fire changed and she was giving me a hard time about her brother Zack, pushing me to give her some information. This girl has even less patience than I do. I couldn't help but repeat my favorite Blingism to her. "Patience in all things. Right?" But she didn't buy it for a second. The truth is she has no idea how much time I have been putting into this. Outside of Solinsky it is the only thing I have worked on the last two weeks. I really don't want to disappoint her after everything she has already done for me. But now is not soon enough for Max. Five minutes later she was walking out the door, still challenging me to come up with something for her. She blew out of here with the same energy and intensity with which she came in, leaving me to try and comprehend what just happened.  
  
Fire in her eyes  
The flame of life  
Burning with intensity  
Consuming all in her path  



	22. Mon Aug 12, 2019 - Warmth & Solitude (He...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Heat  
  
Fic Reference:  
Feedback: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 22: Monday August 12 - Warmth and Solitude  
  
Summary: Logan passes the information about Hannah to Max  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Monday August 12  
  
11:00 am  
  
One's arms  
  
Wrap around  
  
Another's shoulders  
  
A brief moment of warmth  
  
Max gave me a hug this morning. It was just a quick thank you for finding a lead on Hannah. I didn't even deserve it. It was just a lead and a tentative one at that. In May of '09 a Hannah Sukova was transferred from the SAC Base in Gillette Wyoming to the Naval Air Base at Sedro Island off the coast of Washington State. The location of the SAC Base and the occupations of the staff transferred (doctors, nutritionists, teaching specialists) all suggest that this might have been Manticore. Hannah Sukova's age matches that of the Hannah Max remembers. But I'm still not sure if this is the same person, or if she is still at Sedro Island. The Sedro naval air station has been closed for years so it is very likely that the island is abandoned. Still, Max's response touched me so deeply. I haven't felt human contact like that it in months.  
  
I've had so many people touch me in the last few months, doctors and nurses and therapists but there was always a clinical barrier between us. No matter how much they cared I was still a subject to them, a client, a patient. But today was different. To Max I am a person, her business associate, her partner and this morning she made me feel like a friend. I haven't had a real friend in so long. I hadn't realized how much I missed friendship, or how much a hug or a handshake could mean to me. It's those simple things that help me feel real, that help me feel that I am more than just a man in a wheelchair.  
  
You gave me a hug  
  
And told me I was awesome  
  
It was just in gratitude  
  
A spontaneous thank you  
  
But still you touched me  
  
Your arms were around me  
  
You reached out in friendship  
  
And acknowledged my existence  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
11:00 p.m.  
  
The apartment feels different without Bling or Max here. The space is so much quieter. Bling was here for a couple of hours this evening while we worked out then he left. Even after several days it is still disconcerting seeing Bling walk out the door at the end of a work out. Not that he was ever such a great conversationalist. For the longest time our conversations consisted mostly of him asking questions and me not responding. Now we have progressed to pep talks and mind over matter philosophies but at least he was there to bounce a few thoughts against.  
  
On the other hand having Max here on a regular basis during the last two weeks lit the place up. Her attitude follows her everywhere she goes and affects everything she does. Max was only here for ten minutes this morning while I passed on the information about Hannah, but those ten minutes were the highlight of my day. Then she left and the silence returned.  
  
The quiet allows me to do a lot of work but it can be overpowering at times. In the past I used to appreciate the solitude but now it doesn't appeal to me in the same way. I have even entertained the thought of calling someone to break the monotony but in truth there are not many people I could call.  
  
Matt Sung would be shocked if I called him for no reason. What would I tell him? "Hi! I just called to shoot the breeze." Or better yet I could ask him to abandon his family and come over here for a while. He would think I was insane. Even after all the years we have worked together he knows next to nothing about my personal life. He doesn't even know who Eyes Only is. I purposely structured it that way to protect him and to maintain the security of Eyes Only and for obvious reasons the situation will not change any time soon.  
  
I could call Sebastian and have him give me the official welcome to the paraplegic club. Better yet, we could trade tips on wheelchair maintenance or adaptive devices. There's no chance we would get bored. I'm sure we could talk for hours about the hundreds of things that are wrong with our bodies. No thank you. I don't need to see or talk to Sebastian to be reminded of what my life has become.  
  
At least I called Bennett to congratulate him on his engagement. He is the only person in my family that tolerates me, but the truth is I think he does it to rebel against his father. Now that he has a fiancée the last thing he would want to do is come by here.  
  
I have even considered "blowing up" Max's pager for no reason just to have her storm in here and blast me with her attitude. Instead I have been immersing myself in the Manticore files in search of something substantial I could give her. She was so happy when I located Hannah. I just want to see that look on her face again.  
  
Zack didn't leave much of a trail though when he escaped custody a few years ago. I've been pouring over the Manticore and police files all day trying to find a lead. These Manticore kids are very elusive. There must be some methods they use to maintain their anonymity. I will probably have to call Max tomorrow to see if I can glean any other clues from her. 


	23. Tues Aug 13, 2019 -Action (Heat)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Heat  
Fic Reference:   
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
A/N1: Thanks everyone for the encouraging reviews, they certainly keep me writing.  
  
A/N2: Hi Zanna, I've wanted to thank you for your very thoughtful comments but I don't have your email address. If you don't mind hearing from me just send me a note at the address above.  
  
Chapter 23: Tuesday August 13 - Action (Heat)  
Summary: With Logan's help Max visits Hannah  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Tuesday August 13  
  
8:00 am  
  
I have decided to proceed with my search for Zack and the other X5's on two fronts. I will continue to look for leads related to the individual X5's and I will also look for indirect leads that Manticore itself may generate.  
  
Direct Leads - Zack and other X5's  
1. Continue to search prison records for identifying marks - specifically barcode tattoos.  
2. Continue to search news reports for extraordinary human feats.  
3. Search government records for Michael Hanover (Driver's License, Passport, Birth Certificate etc.) - May provide indication of past locations.  
4. Review Manticore training with Max - Stealth techniques, travel patterns etc.  
  
Indirect Leads - Manticore and related  
1. Determine current location of Manticore facility  
a. Review transfer orders for clusters of transfers to one particular location  
b. Look for signs of a skeleton crew remaining on base after official closure 9possibility of downsizing as opposed to complete closure)  
2. Determine Seattle base of operations if any.  
3. Retrieve details Donald Lydecker's military record and current assignment  
4. Look up former Manticore staff - Match Driver's license records with SAC transfer and resignation lists. (Begin with Seattle DMV for easiest access)  
5.Search informant net for additional reports on Manticore itself.  
6. Review research on genetic engineering - track activities of key individuals in the field (possible connections to Manticore).  
  
Definition: manticore, mantichora, manticora, mantiger -- (a mythical monster having the head of man (with horns), the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion or a dragon)   
  
In Asian mythology a manticore is a monstrous creature which inhabits the forests in Asia, especially in Indonesia, Malaysia and India. It is the most dangerous predator to inhabit these regions. Its mouth is filled with three rows of razor-sharp teeth and its tail ends in a ball with poisonous darts. The monster fires a volley of darts at its human victim who it devours completely bones, clothing, possessions and all. When a villager has completely disappeared, this is considered proof of the presence of a manticore.   
  
Manticore. Even its name suggests the work undertaken at that facility, the building of chimeras, monsters, part human, part animal, intended to fight and destroy. Yet Max has transcended the role Manticore intended for her. She is the most vibrantly human person I know.  
  
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1:00 p.m.  
  
Max is such a hothead. I warned her not to, but she decided to storm Sedro Island and seek out Hannah after all. Despite all her stealth training sometimes I don't think stealth is her strong point. I tried to tell her yesterday that she should be patient but she just came back at me about my own impatience. She has a point about me, but this is her safety and security we are talking about.  
  
Of course Lydecker was set up on Hannah and was waiting for Max. She was lucky that she brought her boyfriend Eric with her and I just happened to page her when I did. At least I was able to run some interference for her.   
  
I was concerned for a moment when Eric answered my page instead of Max. But after few semi-coherent comments from Eric I realized Max was on Sedro Island and would probably need my help. It was time for me to go to work. I could even hear my own voice change as I shifted into operational mode. When Lydecker appeared a few minutes later I was ready for him. These operations are what I excel at. It is for moments like these that I invested so much time and effort into Eyes Only. I had the skills and the resources today to provide the assistance that Max needed.   
  
Eric caught on quickly and followed my instructions without question. It was easy enough pulling up a topographical map of the island from the Department of Defense archives. There was only one functional boat launch located on the south shore of the island and I expected that Max would attempt to leave the island from that point. The key was getting to her before Lydecker. I had Eric hold the line while I secured a boat for him at a nearby marina then I gave him directions to the south shore.   
  
In the meantime I tapped into Lydecker's transmissions, 30.99 Mhz, standard military radio frequency, no scramblers, simple to monitor, intercept and provide a little misdirection. I managed to put some distance between Lydecker's men and Max to give her the time she needed to get to the south shore.   
  
The hardest part for me was waiting when there was nothing more that I could do on my end. I couldn't help worrying about Max. The tension I felt was unbelievable until Alpha team's transmission confirmed that Max had escaped. Eric came through for her. He retrieved the boat with no problem and picked up Max with time to spare before Lydecker's troops arrived. They made it off the island safely and are on their way back to Seattle now. They even have Hannah with them.  
  
Hannah's presence indicates an entirely different challenge. If Hannah is with Max it means her life is in danger. She will need a new identity and a new place to live. I'll have a relocation kit prepared for her, passport, driver's license, birth certificate, sector passes and five thousand dollars cash. It should be sufficient for her to relocate easily at a destination of her choice. I have prepared dozens of these kits in the last few years. The key to the their effectiveness is the authentic documentation provided by my contacts. They have no idea how many lives they have saved by periodically providing me with a few clean docs.  
  
Now that my work is complete I have to admit that intercepting Lydecker today was the most fun I've had in ages. I do a wicked imitation of a unit leader. "This is Delta Two. We have the suspects. We are five miles from the rally point. Over." I could just see Lydecker's face when he discovered that Delta Two did not have Max. His voice as he kept demanding "Who is this?" was full of frustration and fury. I remember my reflection on the computer screen as I hung up. I looked like the cat that caught the golden canary. In this case I really had, in the form of one genetically enhanced girl. I should do this more often!  
  
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8:00 p.m.  
  
Max left a few minutes ago with Hannah's new identification. It turns out that she doesn't have a boyfriend after all. When Eric told me he loved her I wasn't surprised. Who wouldn't fall head over heals for her? But tonight she said they were never together. Which is it? Sometimes I can't figure her out. I don't know why I even asked her about him. I know I have no reason to be jealous of Eric or anyone else in Max's life. She can see whomever she wants. When I told her I knew we didn't have that type of relationship she looked me right in the eye, and with an unexpected seriousness, confirmed it.   
  
Then Max completely surprised me with one of her out of left field questions. I never know what she is going to say or do. She asked me if I had ever been up the Space Needle. Uhhh...No. I told her I was terrified of heights but she responded as if my fear was only a minor nuisance. If she thinks I will follow her up there she is greatly mistaken. This is one area I have no qualms about disappointing her in. I prefer staying closer to ground level, my apartment notwithstanding. Unlike Max, I think it is unlikely that I would fall out of one of my own windows.  
  
At times like these though I get the feeling that I'm somehow special to Max. . She treats me like more than just a business associate. It's those unexpected little things like the question about the space needle and the hug she gave me yesterday. It was so warm. I can't help feeling that there was more to it than just gratitude. That she might be beginning to think of me as a friend she can trust. I doubt that I could ever be more than that to her. How could she be interested in the man with the incredible shrinking legs? How could any woman?  
  
In any case I'm not going to concern myself with things that are not possible. I'm just happy that Max wants to work with me, that I am not invisible to her. I think having Max around and having my Eyes Only work may actually make this life of mine tolerable.   
  



	24. Sun Sep 1, 2019 - A Letter (Flushed)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Flushed  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 24 - Sunday September 1, 2019 - A Letter (Flushed)  
Summary: Logan remembers when he learned to cook.  
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Sunday September 1, 2019  
  
Dad,  
  
I want to tell you about a girl that I met a few months ago. Her name is Max and she's young and strong and irreverent. She is just as likely to break your neck for wasting her time as she is to smile at you. She's exactly the type of girl you would hate. But you needn't worry Dad; she is just a business associate of mine.  
  
I fed her a few times while we were working late on a recent project. The least I could do was offer her some food. We were pressed for time so I just threw together some soup and sandwiches or boiled up some pasta that we ate at our desks. Still I have never seen anyone eat so voraciously or enjoy her food quite as much as Max. A "spur of the moment culinary miracle" she called my cooking. When I tried to tell her it was no big deal she looked at me in shock and said that cooking was definitely not in her skill set. The girl really does appreciate her food.  
  
I decided to have her over for dinner tonight. This is the first time I've paged her when there hasn't been work to do or some information to give her. I wonder if she will rip my head off for calling her over here for nothing. But there is food involved so hopefully I will make it through this visit intact. I have really enjoyed having someone to cook for again.  
  
Mom roped me into cooking, when she caught me staking out the kitchen for a chance at her chocolate chip cookie dough. Soon she had me dropping eggshells in the mix and spilling chocolate chips all over the kitchen floor. But somehow I managed to learn a few things in the process. Mom seemed to enjoy cooking whether it was for just two of us or for a dinner party with your business associates. I didn't mind helping her but I could never understand why she didn't allow our chef to take care of it. That was what you hired him for wasn't it? Mom said she liked to cook for her guests and see the satisfied expressions on their faces. They seemed happy enough to me but I wasn't really convinced. It just seemed like a lot of work to me.  
  
Dad, the truth is I love to cook and I have you to thank for that. We only cooked together a half a dozen times but you helped me catch the vision of what it was really about.  
  
You were one of those men's men that eschewed everything domestic or remotely introspective. You were strong, silent and intimidating not only to me, but also to everyone around you. You pushed us all so hard until you got what you wanted and you always got what you wanted. Logan Cale the turnaround king the newspapers called you. I don't need to tell you this but your face was a regular feature on the cover of the business section of the paper. I still have some of those clippings somewhere.  
  
"In the last twenty-four months Logan Cale, President of Cale Industries and well known corporate financier, has taken Softcell Inc. from the hands of the receiver to unprecedented profits, breaking the record set in the 1990's by another pacific-northwest success story Micro Corp. In the process he has restructured the software industry and breathed new life into the high tech sector as a whole."  
  
"United Services of Seattle is sad to announce the resignation of Logan Cale from the board of directors after a three year tenure. During Mr. Cale's tenure United Services has seen a doubling in donations. Mr. Cale's greatest contribution however, was in the streamlining of administrative procedures and the institution of internal cost cutting measures which significantly increased the percentage of contributions that were directed to actual charitable purposes. His legacy will continue with United Services for years to come."  
  
I read dozens of these articles over the years and each one intimidated me more than the last. How could one person do so much? I certainly couldn't and still can't.   
  
Dad you were driven and intense and you pushed yourself hardest of all. To me it seemed you never slept. I would wake up at 2:00 am for a glass of water and the light would still be on in your office. I could hear you talking to yourself as you reviewed a file. "I can't believe these people. Don't they understand that you can't run a company this way? They have no sense of fiscal responsibility." Then at 7:00 am when I would drag myself out of bed to get ready for school you would be dressed and walking out the door.   
  
You knew what needed to be done and didn't rest until it was completed. If no one else could do it you did it yourself. You acted as if you could save the world, or at least the financial world, single-handedly.  
  
Seeing you cooking in the kitchen that first time seemed like such a contradiction to me.   
  
"What are you doing Dad?" I asked suspiciously, when I caught you there.  
  
"Cooking for your Mother." You said matter-of-factly  
  
"What for?" I stood there in shock, not moving.  
  
"Hand me that saucepan over there." It was more an order than a request. I jumped to get it at the force of your voice. You were never one to explain yourself or justify what your were doing.  
  
"Taste the sauce." Another order. "More basil or more sage?"  
  
"Uh...basil I think." I stammered.  
  
"I agree." That was the closest thing to a complement I ever received from you.  
  
"Logan, come here and I'll show you how to julienne vegetables." You taught me that the key to a good cut is a good blade and how to recognize one. As we worked on the meal you taught me how to use every knife in the kitchen going through them one at a time, chef's knife, cleaver, paring knife, boning knife.  
  
When I asked you how you knew all this you told me you had hired a chef from a five-star restaurant to teach you a few techniques while you were working on a merger deal in Paris. "If you're going to do something you might as well do it right" you said.  
  
That was your philosophy in life. "If you're going to do something you might as well do it right." Your attention to detail was amazing, from the ingredients in the sauce to the selection of the wine to the setting of the table to create the desired mood. You tackled cooking the same way you tackled all your other projects, with intensity, drive and perfectionism. It didn't take me long to realize that the dozens of cookbooks on our kitchen shelves weren't Mom's. They were yours. Oriental, Thai, Malaysian, Mediterranean, Italian, French and encyclopedic volumes detailing all the herbs and spices in the world, the list was endless. You had memorized them all. You knew how to create the perfect glaze for duck a l'orange or how to mix a half dozen spices to create a curry from scratch. The one thing that didn't surprise me though was that you left a disaster in the kitchen. Your domestic moments never extended as far as cleaning up.  
  
In the end it was Mom's eyes when you seated her at the table on that day that sealed it for me. That meal was obviously the best gift that you could have given her. I could see the pleasure sparkling in her eyes at that moment and then I understood.  
  
Cooking was the one connection I had with you. It was the first time you allowed me to work beside you. You probably didn't realize this but I read and reread every single one of your cookbooks over the next several weeks wanting to be ready the next time you entered the kitchen. I wanted to be able to answer your questions and offer something coherent when you asked my opinion.   
  
We cooked together just five more times before you died. Those were exciting, intense, intimidating days for me. Still, on those five days, the joy of working beside you far surpassed my fear of disappointing you. I hold onto those five days as some of the best days in my life.   
  
Together you and I created some wonderful meals for Mom, and we never once failed. Unlike me failure was not in your vocabulary, not at work, not in your marriage, not in public service and especially not in the kitchen. You never failed at anything in your life except for staying alive long enough so I could prove to you I wasn't a failure either. I don't know if I will ever be able to do that but I am still trying.  
  
Uncle Jonas started calling me Junior after you died as if I didn't deserve your name. All these years later he still does, in his condescending tone, letting me know that I will never live up to your standards. He's right of course, I know I never can but at least I can cook a meal for a friend. I'm grateful to you for that Dad, for giving me something I could be good at.  
  
So tonight I thought I would offer Max something that I have put a little more effort into. No culinary miracle but I thought I would try and put a sparkle in her eyes the same way you put a sparkle in Mom's.  
  
Your son,  
  
Logan Cale  
  
  



	25. Tue Sept 3, 2019 - She Needs Me (Flushed...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Flushed  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 25 - Tuesday September 3, 2019 - She Needs Me (Flushed)  
Summary: Logan helps Max through a bad bout of Seizures  
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Tuesday September 3, 2019  
  
11:00 am  
I've seen Max experience a few tremors before. We have worked closely together long enough now that I couldn't miss them. It was usually just a slight shaking in her hands or the beginnings of a headache that she didn't even bother to hide. She would take a few tryptophan pills and the symptoms would subside. They never really slowed her down.  
  
Sunday's seizure though was frightening in its intensity. I have never seen Max be so debilitated or realized how vulnerable she was until I saw her lying there pleading with me to stay with her. The military armor plating was gone and she was just a young girl who desperately needed some comforting. She doesn't even have a family to take care of her when she is sick. There was no one that I could even call. Instead she was here with me, a man she is just beginning to know. She slept fitfully, barely able to rest as the seizures continued to assault her throughout the night despite the tryptophan that I coaxed down her throat. I stayed at her side stroking her hair and holding her hand. She seemed comforted by my presence, more restful. It seemed that my simple touch let her know that she wasn't in this alone.  
  
I never understood how much Max relied on tryptophan. If the serotonin levels in her brain become sufficiently depleted she could slip into a coma and die. Tryptophan is her lifeline during these times. It is the only thing that appears to help. It amazes me that such a simple nutritional supplement can have such dramatic results for her.   
  
I've found a significant amount of information on tryptophan as part of my research on Manticore. Tryptophan is an amino acid that combined with pyridoxal-5-phosphate, a form of vitamin B6, can be converted into serotonin in the body. When serotonin levels in the brain are low it can cause insomnia, anxiety and food cravings. The anxiety was definitely evident on Sunday night when Max's serotonin levels became dangerously low. After observing Max for a few months, I believe that even when she is not having a seizure, she is constantly fighting below optimum serotonin levels. It at least partially explains her love of food. She is probably subconsciously trying to increase her tryptophan uptake. I'm also convinced that low serotonin levels are at least one factor in Max's lack of desire to sleep, although with her genetic make up there are likely other factors at work as well. The large dosage of tryptophan that Max took on Sunday night must have raised the serotonin levels in her brain sufficiently to allow her to sleep although it was a fitful sleep at best.  
  
I let her leave yesterday morning and I shouldn't have. She still had dark circles under her eyes and difficulty keeping her balance. I couldn't even interest her in some breakfast and she never says no to food. With her serotonin levels so low I would expect her to want to eat more than ever. That was the biggest flag of all that there was still something seriously wrong. The tryptophan she took throughout the night seemed to barely be keeping the seizures at bay. Despite her obvious weakness she insisted that she had to go home. It is so difficult for her to show weakness or to allow me to help her. The seizures Sunday night must have been extreme for Max to rely on me as much as she did.   
  
I knew it was far from over, that she could have another seizure any time and still I let her go. Now I haven't heard from her in over twenty-four hours. I've been paging her all morning and she has not responded. There must be something seriously wrong. I have to find her.  
  
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6:00 p.m.  
When I learned from Cindy that she had flushed Max's pills down the toilet my fears were confirmed. My first thought was the Max must have tried to get some more. She would have been very desperate. A quick call to Matt confirmed that she had indeed been arrested last night for breaking into the pharmacy at Metro Medical. Getting her out of Langford prison before she slipped into a coma was going to be a difficult prospect. Still I breathed a sigh of relief just to know where she was. At least she wasn't unconscious in an alley somewhere with no way for us to find her.  
  
Max has some good people that care about her. Thanks to Matt, Cindy was able to get the tryptophan to her inside the prison. She risked her life to do that for her friend. Even Bling came over to help me hack into the Police Department records. He seemed as concerned that we delete Max's records as I was. Luckily there are so many holes in the PD's internal security system that their files are virtually unprotected. It was easy enough deleting Max's records and every other female's booked today just for good measure. If the police department ever developed some integrity they could use some serious help rebuilding their computer systems. Today their weakness was for Max's benefit. She is out and she is safe. She even brought a lost child with her, a young girl that the warden was using as his concubine.  
  
Thank God I heard Max's voice again. Thank God she is okay.  
  
Still, I can't understand what was wrong with Cindy and Bling today. Max almost died and they were both acting like I wanted to ask her on a date. How could I not care for her? How could I not worry about her and want to protect her? What if she had died? What would we have done? What would I have done?   
  
All I know is that sometimes Max needs me. I realize that she is stronger and faster and more intelligent than I. I'm just a man in a wheelchair after all and there is only so much that I can do. I know that I can't truly protect her, not from the world or from her seizures. Still I am grateful that I can be there for her on those rare occasions when she needs me. They may be few and far between but when they occur I will do all in my power to help her. I know that much.  
  
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9:00 p.m.  
Thank God for friends. They can make all the difference in the world. What a motley crew we are, a paraplegic hacker, a lesbian impersonating a prostitute, a police detective and a physiotherapist. But together we got Max out of that prison and erased every record of her being there. We even found a home for Maria. My friends Jim and Alice were grateful to have her. They have wanted a child in their family for years and they have the skills to help Maria deal with the abuse she suffered. Not to mention their pony! It amazes me that the informant net has extended its role to becoming a foster care placement agency but in this broken world of ours we will fill whatever need presents itself.  
  
This is the way our society is supposed to work. All the Lydeckers in the world cannot stop a few people who look out for each other. "The Logan Cale brigade for the defense of widows, small children, and lost animals." Max called it with her typical sense of humor. Call it what you will, it still works. And despite her protests Max has caught the vision. What she did for Maria proved it to me once again. She is my number one field commander whether she knows it or not.  
  
Peace. Out.  
  



	26. Th Sep 5, 2019 - Hoops (Flushed-Cream)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference:  
Spoilers: Art Attack  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 26 - Thursday September 5, 2019 - Hoops (Flushed-Cream Bridge)  
Summary: Bling tries to help Logan through a plateau in his rehab program  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Thursday September 5, 2019  
  
I have played basketball for as long as I can remember. As kids, my friends and I spent hours playing on the half court Dad set up in our back driveway. It was there that we acted out our dreams of being Michael Jordan, John Stockton and Steve Nash. As we grew older our obsession for the game grew along with us. We succeeded in pushing each other through high school ball and onto the Yale varsity team. Though I had always loved basketball, at Yale, I became a true student of the game. I managed to take my skills and understanding of the game to a higher level. After college, I played a lot less as I became more involved in journalism and my work with the Pacific Free Press. Still, even after I started Eyes Only I managed to squeeze in a few pickup games here and there. It was the one thing I couldn't completely give up.   
  
I love the game and I'm looking forward to the prospect of playing again. But yesterday, I resisted the idea so fervently that it took all of Bling's numerous persuasive powers to get me on the court.  
  
I've been stuck on this seemingly endless plateau for about a month now, working so hard at rehab and getting nowhere. I know I must be doing something wrong but I have no idea what it is. Yesterday, I had already impatiently dragged myself onto the training table when Bling nonchalantly walked in with a basketball in his hand and suggested we go shoot a few hoops.   
  
"I'm not in the mood to shoot hoops. I have a lot of work to do." I could barely restrain the impatience in my voice.  
  
"Logan, sometimes a change of pace can be the trigger that can push you onto a higher level." Bling and his theories can be so irritating at times.  
  
"Look Bling. I don't need a change of pace. Fooling around with a basketball isn't going get me anywhere. I don't have time for irrelevant games." By this point, any pretense of restraint was gone as I glared at Bling.  
  
"Catch!" Out of nowhere, the basketball was flying at my chest. I plucked it out of the air with the practiced ease that comes from years playing the game. As I had done thousands of times before, I cupped the ball softly in my hands and I leaned back to absorb its momentum. Over the years, I've caught many balls moving faster than that on the basketball court. But when I attempted to straighten up, I found myself still moving backwards. It was then that I realized that I didn't have sufficient abdominal control to stabilize myself, and that I would mostly likely be on the floor in another second. Needless to say, holding onto the ball became a low priority as I clutched at the sides of the training table to prevent myself from falling over backwards.   
  
"What did you do that for?" I yelled. Bling doesn't usually put me in risky situations. Normally, he's the one trying to stop me from doing something stupid.  
  
"Today, we are working on eye/hand coordination and core stability. Get in the chair. We're going down to the basketball court in the park." Having successfully made his point, Bling retrieved the basketball that had bounced across the floor and headed out the door. I don't know why I ever bothered to resist him.  
  
I offered Bling my thousandth apology as we crossed the street. He accepted in his usual professional manner, while adding a lesson for good measure.  
  
"Logan, cross training can be a valuable tool in any training program. It helps you use muscle groups in different combinations and through different ranges of motion. It is very effective in improving functional strength and endurance."  
  
Bling had me sit on one of the courtside benches as we worked on catching technique. As we progressed, he increased the speed and intensity of each pass and also varied the angle of the throw. Eventually, I was catching balls that he tossed more than an arm's length away, albeit with varying amounts of success. Without the back support that the wheelchair provides, I had to focus intensely on retaining my balance with each catch. I also found that throwing a pass from a seated position was very different from what I had been accustomed to. With my legs not involved, I had to find an alternative method of generating the power to throw the ball a significant distance. It felt like I was using every muscle fiber in my body, arms, chest, back and especially abdominals, to generate the necessary force.  
  
"That's it, Logan. Power always begins at the core and radiates from there." Bling was ready with a technical explanation for everything that we did.   
  
"Let's move onto the court and work on some dribbling and shooting skills." Dribbling the ball while simultaneously pushing a wheelchair is an interesting combination of skills, to say the least. I dribbled the ball off my foot a few times before I adjusted to the angle of the chair. But by the end of our session, I was able to work my way up and down the court with a moderate amount of control.   
  
I found shooting to be the easiest skill to adapt to since it required essentially the same techniques as the passing skills that we had previously worked on. By the end of our session, I felt some of the natural groove that I always had on the court returning. Bling was right, of course. This was exactly what I needed. I found myself insisting that we return for another session.  
  
Looking back at it now, Bling knew exactly what he was doing. When we returned to the court this afternoon, we just 'happened' to catch the end of a wheelchair basketball game. I was instantly sucked into the activity on the court. Those guys could move! They could turn on a dime and move the ball down the court in a couple of seconds. Their game was intense and physical. They had no qualms about making contact with each other to gain a shooting advantage. They finished a few minutes later, leaving me hungry to see more. They were doing things out there that I didn't think were possible in a wheelchair.   
  
Despite myself, I felt completely inspired as we began our session today. We worked on the same skills as yesterday, focussing on core stability and balance. I quickly became immersed in what I was doing as I pushed myself through the passing, dribbling and shooting drills. About one hour later, I took my eyes off the ball long enough to realize that I had an audience of my own. It was one of the players from the game. He had been sitting there for most of the hour and I hadn't even noticed him.   
  
"Pretty good skills you've got there." He called out to me as he wheeled in my direction. His legs were completely atrophied, indicating that his injury was probably several years old, but he had excellent upper body development. Even in the wheelchair, he had the natural grace and carriage of an athlete. He crossed the court with a couple of strong pushes on the wheels of his chair. "Nice to meet you." He held a strong callused hand toward me. "My name is Jack Smith."   
  
"Thanks." I reached out my hand to meet his. "Logan Cale."  
  
"I noticed you watching us earlier. I wonder if you would be interested in joining us for a pickup game on Saturday afternoon?"  
  
"I would love to, but I have only been back on the court the last two days. And I've never even played the wheelchair game before." Was he kidding? I would pay him for the opportunity to play! But I knew I would be in way over my head. There was no way I could keep up with what I had seen on the court that afternoon. "I would only slow you guys down."  
  
"Not a problem. We have a variety of skill levels and functional abilities. We could really use another player." Jack was persistent. "Outside court at the community center. Game starts at two. Meet me there an hour earlier and I'll give you a few pointers and help you set up." I was about to protest when Jack wheeled away, not waiting for a response. He must have been taking lessons from Bling's book.  
  
"You heard the man." Bling gave me his 'you'll be there even if it kills' you look.  
  
"Whatever you say, Mom." I laughed at him.   
  
I can't believe I'm actually going to play basketball again, but the truth is, I can't wait to get out on that court.  
  
  



	27. Sat Sep 7, 2019 - Rules of the Game (Flu...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference:   
Spoilers: Art Attack  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 27 - Saturday September 7, 2019 - The Game (Flushed-Cream Filler)   
Summary: Logan plays his first game of wheelchair basketball  
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Saturday September 7, 2019  
  
I couldn't believe how nervous I was this afternoon as I made my way onto the court. I felt like I was trying out for my high school freshman team once again. Jack was all business, though, as if he recruited stray paraplegics for the game on a regular basis.   
  
"I brought you a band to place around your thighs. You'll be moving pretty fast, so you don't want your legs sliding out of the chair. You'll find this will give you better stability." He kept talking as he helped me get rigged up. "Your chair is pretty good. I think it will give you sufficient mobility on the court. I earned my wheels in a car accident five years ago. How about you?"  
  
"Shooting, in April." Simple question, simple answer. I didn't feel at all defensive around him. Seeing him also in a chair, somehow, put me at ease.  
  
"Five months ago?" He looked at me quizzically, as if he wasn't sure if he had heard correctly.  
  
"Yeah. The first few months are the worst, aren't they? I've been working hard trying to get back some functionality, but it's been very slow going. Sometimes I feel like I'm pushing against a brick wall. And to top it off Bling, my P.T., keeps trying to get me to slow down and do less. Will it always be like this?" I couldn't hide the frustration in my voice.  
  
"Logan, I don't know you very well, but I don't think you understand what you've accomplished here." Jack looked at me like I should be celebrating, not complaining. "The way you handled yourself on the court, I was sure that you had been using a chair for at least a year. I have never seen anyone be able to do what you are doing after only five months. Most people are still in a rehab hospital at the five month point, not mixing it up on the basketball court."  
  
"Are you serious?" I asked in disbelief. I haven't had an outside frame of reference with which to judge my progress. "It hasn't felt fast to me, and after seeing you play on Thursday, I feel like I'm so far behind that I will never catch up."  
  
"Hey Man. We've being playing for years. At this point, you shouldn't be comparing yourself to us. In any case, it's not a race. We each recover at our own rate. You have to remember to pace yourself if you want to be around for the long haul."  
  
"Now you sound like Bling." I said with exasperation.  
  
"Your therapist? I'll take that as a compliment." Jack smiled. "How did you get hooked up with him?"  
  
"He took me on while I was still in the hospital." Thinking about that time still sends chills up and down my spine. "When we weren't able to find a rehab bed, he agreed to do a one-on-one with me."  
  
"Whatever you do, don't let that guy go." Jack looked at me seriously. "What the two of you have accomplished so far is nothing short of miraculous."   
  
"Thanks. I won't." I smiled. Repair man. Miracle worker. When I get stuck in the daily grind, I sometimes don't realize everything Bling has done for me. I forget how far I have come in the last few months. It still doesn't feel like I have come far enough. It was good to have someone in the same position as me to remind me of what I have accomplished. It made me feel that maybe I wasn't as big a failure as I believed.  
  
"Well, you came here to play some ball, not to get unsolicited advice from a guy you barely know, so let's go to work." He smiled as he began his overview of the wheelchair rules.   
  
"Wheelchair basketball is essentially stand up basketball with a few adaptations. The height of the basket, distance to the foul line, three-point line, etc., are the same as in the stand up game. The main difference is that there is no double dribble rule. Travelling is called if a player takes more than two pushes while in possession of the ball and not dribbling. Oh, and unless there is a risk of injury, play is not stopped when a player falls out of his chair. So if you have a fall, you're on your own."  
  
"Great!" I mumbled to myself. "I'll probably spend most of the game flat on my back." My sitting balance is not that great when I'm leaning in an attempt to catch the ball. The last couple of days with Bling proved that to me. And my ability to climb back into the chair is even worse. Dragging one hundred and eighty pounds of dead body weight from the floor into a chair, using only my arm strength, was not my definition of fun.  
  
"Hey! Don't worry, Man." Jack must have noticed the look on my face. "We're all in the same situation here. After the whistle blows, we usually give each other a hand up. This is a team sport, after all. Let's warm up our free throws while we go over the rest." Jack moved to the foul line and sunk a couple of quick baskets.  
  
"Your turn." He tossed me the ball and then continued. "As I mentioned on Thursday, we have a variety of skill levels and functional abilities. In competitive ball, there is a system we use to equalize functional abilities across teams. It's based on the level of injury and the amount of torso control a player has." Jack began to outline the four basic functional classes and how they are applied.   
  
"Class 1 players have no abdominal control and are not able to actively rotate their torso. Their injury is usually at thoracic level 1 through 7, T1 to T7. Class 2 athletes have active stability and torso rotation. That means they can use their abdominals to stabilize themselves in the sitting position and to turn their bodies. Their injury is usually at T8 through Lumbar 1 (L1)." He paused for a moment, watching me hit one rim shot after another.   
  
"Try turning your chair so that you are at ninety degrees to the basket. It may feel more natural that way." I followed his advice and sunk three in a row as he kept feeding me balls.  
  
"Thanks, Man!" My grin widened with each swish of the ball through the net.   
  
"No problem." He smiled as we switched positions. "Just tricks of the trade." I fed him a few balls as he continued with his explanation.  
  
"A Class 3 player can lean forward and return to an upright position without pushing off with his arms. His injury is usually at L2 through L4. Finally, a Class 4 athlete can lean forward and at least to one side, and return to an upright position without using his arms. In competitive ball, the total class points of the players on the court should not exceed 14. In pickup ball, we don't get quite so technical, but we do try to even up as much as possible."  
  
"My injury is at T10, but I can lean forward reasonably well, so I'm classed at 2.5. Watching you practice, I would say that you would probably be classed about the same. I'd expect your injury is somewhere around T9?"   
  
"T8, actually. Just don't ask me to lean too far in any direction or I'll be mopping the court with my shirt." I grimaced, still nervous about the game.  
  
"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised when you get on court. Your skills are really good. Where did you play college ball?" He asked as he directed me back to the top of the key.  
  
"Yale." I was taken aback. This guy had me pegged. "How do you do that?"   
  
"What?"   
  
"Read people like that." I asked as I let another shot go. The satisfying swish brought another smile to my face. Jack's trick definitely worked.   
  
"I love the game. It's pretty obvious that you've had good training. But don't ask me what you ate for breakfast because I couldn't tell you." He laughed. "That's enough technical crap. Let's shoot some hoops!" He grabbed a ball and powered down to the other end of the court for a lay up.  
  
The game itself was great. Fast and aggressive. As Jack mentioned, there were players with a variety of skill levels and functional abilities. There were several guys like myself who had played basketball in the past, but were new to the wheelchair game. Then there were others who were very experienced using a wheelchair, but were new to basketball. Finally, there were a few guys like Jack who had the complete package. There were a dozen of us in all, giving everyone plenty of court time. I got my hands on the ball a lot more often than I expected. And yeah, I did fall out of my chair. Twice. But I pulled myself back in and kept going. I've decided that if I don't fall out of my chair at least once in a game, I'm not trying hard enough. At least, it is an effective way to determine my limits. Thanks to Bling's drills and Jack's tips, I even made a few baskets. There is nothing like the feeling of power when you drive down the court with a ball in your hands and make a basket. The rush {is} unbelievable.   
  
The next game is on Thursday in the park. Those guys will probably roll right over me, but at this point, I don't care. I will definitely be there!  
  
  



	28. Fri Sep 20, 2019 - Spark (Cream)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'   
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG   
  
Episode Reference: Cream  
Spoilers: 1st season  
Fic Reference: None   
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 28 - Friday September 20, 2019 - Spark (Cream)  
Summary: Logan and Max's relationship begins to change.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
Friday September 20, 2019  
  
I've been watching the spark in Max's eye every time we've talked this week. Whether it has been about missing journalists, birthdays, or high gain noise filters, it hasn't mattered. She always has something smart to say, baiting me, pulling me along.   
  
The genetically enhanced killing machine and the high ideal lefty humanist have an interesting game going. She loves our little competitions and so do I. Behind that street slang "no big dealio" façade of hers is a brilliant woman. She is an intellectual sponge that absorbs everything I share with her. Needless to say, she slaughters me at chess. I usually have no clue what she is doing until I am dead.  
  
But for once tonight, I won at our little game. She may have excelled at telecommunications as a child, but I excel at it as an adult. We mere mortals know a few things as well. She was so 'gracious', though, when I corrected her, flashing me another enigmatic smile.  
  
It reminds me of when we first met, of the cautious teasing chemistry that was between us. She accused me of being bent all those months ago. I had invaded her place and she no longer felt 'safe' there. So I casually invited her to stay with me. How bent was that? But the sparks were flying and this bent guy just went for it. I also remember the look in her eye that night when I told her how beautiful she was. For a moment, there was much more in her eyes than just a little spark.  
  
Then everything changed. I lost that spark for a long time and I thought I would never regain it. But for some reason, it is back in Max's eyes and in her voice, teasing and flirting. Now that it is there, I can't help but reciprocate. I'm not fooling myself into thinking that this is something more than it is. A couple of comments don't a relationship make. But, when we play our little games, when she gives me a challenging look, when she flirts with me, it makes me feel human. I can appreciate that.  
  
Now that it's started, I can keep the ball going.  
  
"Pick a birthday." I told her yesterday. "You gotta seize any opportunity you can to celebrate ...", preferably with me, I thought, shooting a smile at her. She smiled back, never one to give up an opportunity to celebrate.  
  
The spark is back...  
  
I would consider that cause for celebration and, in this short brutal life, you gotta seize any opportunity you can to celebrate.  
  
  



	29. Sat Sept 21, 2019 - He Abandoned Us (Cre...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'   
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG   
  
Episode Reference: Cream  
Spoilers: Cream  
Fic Reference: None   
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 29 - Saturday September 21, 2019 - He Abandoned Us (Cream)  
Summary: Logan discovers that Nathan Herrero is still alive.  
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Saturday September 21, 2019  
  
11:00  
Now I understand why Nathan Herrero shifted so many responsibilities to me in the months leading up to his disappearance. Now I understand why he eventually copied his whole informant database to my system. Now I understand all the things he said to me.  
  
"Logan, I won't be around forever."  
  
"Logan, it's important that another person have access to the files in case something happens to me."  
  
"Logan, you know there is a price on my head. You need to think about what you will do if I'm not around."  
  
He planned it this way. He was grooming me for this all along. He knew I wouldn't quit. So he gave it all to me. He placed the weight of the world on my shoulders. Then, he walked away.  
  
He did his share. He put in his twenty to thirty years, and then he conveniently excused himself. He decided it was time to retire, staged his own disappearance, and walked away. He turned his back on responsibility. He turned his back on all of us.  
  
I'm sitting here in this armed camp of a library trying to figure out why Nathan did this. He has already come and gone. He is alive and well. He was standing in front of me, talking to me. After his disappearance, I hoped and prayed that somehow he might still be alive, but I knew better. In our world, when a person is 'Disappeared', he is dead. He never comes back. But today my greatest hope for him was fulfilled. It was so good to see him alive, to hear his voice. "Hello my friend." he said to me. I should have been grinning from ear to ear to see my friend alive. I should have been throwing my arms around him in happiness. I should have been shaking his arm out of its socket with enthusiasm. Yet the circumstances have quashed the joy I should be feeling. I could barely force out a smile.  
  
"They were trying to kill me." Nathan said. "Logan, you of all people should understand."   
  
Of course, they want to kill us. Of course, we are in an armed camp, for the time being. That is why we are in this war. So that it doesn't become a permanent condition. Of course, we need to protect ourselves, but that doesn't mean we abandon the war completely. We have to believe that this is only temporary, that we still have hope for a better world. I can't believe that he could have abandoned that hope.  
  
Nathan said he wanted a life, he wanted love and comfort. What kind of a life does he think he will have if the world continues to crumble around him? I find it incomprehensible that Nathan would give up everything just for some personal comfort. He made me into the person that I am. He opened my eyes to the injustices of this world and he showed me how to fight them. Now, he is acting like he no longer believes what he taught me, that all we should worry about is ourselves and not be concerned about the world around us.  
  
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Nathan taught me that. Yet, he has spent over two years doing nothing.  
  
I thought I knew him. Now, I don't understand him at all.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
4:00 pm  
  
Max has gone to tell Alina that her father is alive. She thinks I won't be able to make the news sound good, that the father who abandoned her is alive. She's right, of course.   
  
Max thinks Nathan did the right thing, giving up his work for Rebecca.   
  
"Some men are willing to rearrange their priorities when they meet a woman who moves their furniture." She stared at me accusingly this afternoon.  
  
Was Max suggesting that I needed to change my priorities? For whom? Who would want me? I looked at her blankly. I didn't understand, and I still don't. When I didn't respond, Max seemed almost disappointed. She couldn't have been talking about herself, could she?   
  
Max doesn't know that she is the only woman I think about. She has been the highlight of my life since the day I met her. She brings humor and enthusiasm into my narrow little world. We share each other's biggest secrets and that has given us an undeniable closeness. I worry about her, I want to protect her, but I can't offer her anything more than friendship. My inadequacies are so glaringly obvious. I can't even hope to have a more intimate relationship with her. In any case, I know our relationship is not like that. I have our friendship and I have my mission. That is sufficient for me.   
  
Until today, I thought that things were the same for Max. I always felt that her quest to find her brothers and sisters was the most important thing in her life. Sure, she eats with me and she talks to me. She even flirts with me at times. The last few days, hell the last few months are evidence of that. But it has always been in the context of our working relationship, our friendship. She has never pushed it further. She has never indicated that she feels anything more for me. I have been her resource in her search for her family. I have been more than willing to accept that. I have been grateful for that. I have never expected anything more.   
  
Rearrange my priorities? For whom? Who would want me? Max?   
  
I thought I knew her. Now, I don't understand her at all.   



	30. Mon Sep 23, 2019 - I Killed Him (Cream)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'   
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG   
  
Episode Reference: Cream  
Spoilers: 1st season  
Fic Reference: None   
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 30 - Monday September 23, 2019 - I killed him (Cream)  
Summary: Logan Mourns the Loss of Nathan Herrero  
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Monday September 23, 2019   
  
Sometimes when I'm working out or even sitting at the computer, I find myself unconsciously reaching for my legs, hoping that they will respond to my touch. Of course, they never do. They are dead. Ironically, though, they feel like any other person's legs. The skin is warm to the touch and, when I move them, they are heavy in my arms, dense with bone and tissue. My blood still flows through them, bringing them life, sustaining the tissues. It makes me hope that maybe they are not dead. Maybe they are just dormant. Waiting. Waiting for the miracle that I pray will come some day, the miracle that I so desperately need to believe in. But I know this is a foolish hope that can't be fulfilled. I know you can't bring the dead back to life.   
  
I am no stranger to death. I have already seen so many die, first Hunter Dillon, then Peter, now Nathan. Along the way, countless others have given their lives for our cause, journalists, informants and staff. Many I have never even met, but Nathan I knew and loved. Now he is dead because of me. In my work, a mistake exacts such a heavy price. Others have paid with their lives for my failures. A few months ago, I decided that I would continue to fight no matter what happened, even if my friends continued to get killed. The worst has happened again. It was my fault again. Some leader I am, some protector of the people. I can't even protect my closest friends.   
  
Nathan Herrero is dead and it is my fault. My mistake. I killed him. It was all over the news today. An hour after he met with his daughter, he was dead. I led his murderers right to him. Knowing that, in the end, he died for his cause doesn't make Nathan's death hurt any less. I never wanted it this way. I never wanted a martyr. I wanted my friend alive. The knife is back in my heart.   
  
Bling came by for our regular workout this evening. I let him know about Nathan right away. I don't keep important things from him anymore. He quietly accepted my news and asked if I wanted to forego our session. I asked him to stay hoping that, once we hit the weights, I would be able to get my mind off Nathan for a few minutes. But it didn't work. Nathan was with me the whole time. I found myself stopping and restarting repeatedly as I struggled to keep my mind on the workout. After another misfire, I stopped again and apologized to Bling for my lack of focus.   
  
"Sorry." I couldn't even look at him. It was difficult to get even this one word out. Sorry Bling. Sorry Nathan.   
  
"It's okay, Man. Why don't you take a couple of minutes? I'll check out the contact room." Bling responded with his typical understanding, giving me some space to collect myself.   
  
I picked up the dumbbells once again and started another set. Then another wave of grief washed over me forcing me to put the weights down. The tears that I held back all day returned to the surface, threatening to spill over. Once again, my hand drifted to my legs, searching for a response. Dead legs. Dead friend. When will this ever end?   
  
Bling returned from the contact room at that moment. Despite the complete trust I have in him, I found myself shielding my grief from him. I quickly pulled my hand away from my thigh and tried to turn away from him, hoping he wouldn't see my eyes before I slipped on my glasses. It is very difficult for me to share my guilt and my grief, even with Bling. But I do appreciate his presence.   
  
"Thank you, Bling." It wasn't really for the envelope that he brought me that I thanked him. It was for much more than that. Thank you for being here. Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not leaving me alone. I wanted to say much more, but I couldn't speak the words.   
  
I'm watching Nathan's tape now, listening to my friend's final words. I can barely see his face through the tears in my eyes. There is no holding them back now. He is thanking me for reuniting him with his daughter. He is saying that he owes me one for giving her back to him. I can't ask his forgiveness. I can't swallow. I can barely breathe. What have I done? How will I ever make things right?  
  
In the end, Nathan hadn't forgotten his responsibilities. He was not ready to fully join the fight again, but he was willing to take a big risk by allowing me to broadcast his Allan Lans footage. He held the tape back so long to protect Alina, the daughter he loved. That is so ironic, given what has happened. Exposing Lans won't bring Nathan back, but maybe now he will be held accountable for the deaths he has been responsible for. Maybe if we somehow manage to stop Allan Lans, Nathan's death won't have been completely in vain.  
  
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Nathan taught me this truth when we first met, and he left it with me as his final farewell. He was one of the good men. He fought the evil in this world of ours and he taught me that I could too. I will continue to do my small something, however feeble it is. I hope that I can continue his legacy. I hope that I will make a difference. I will continue to fight. I know I will never let go. I will do it because I know this one thing to be true...   
  
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.  
  



	31. Mon Oct 7, 2019 - Security & Friendship ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Cream  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 31 - Monday October 7, 2019 - Security & Friendship (Cream)  
Summary: Bling gets hired as Logan's security chief.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Monday October 7, 2019  
  
I've known for a long time that I would eventually have to hire another security chief to replace Peter. I've known that I would have to put another man's life at risk. I held back as long as I could, but even with Max doing the legwork, there is too much for me to do alone. The demand for Eyes Only's services is so great.  
  
I found myself calling Bling regularly, asking him to squeeze in a few hours between clients to help me work on a file. Eventually, he began coming in a couple of hours before our scheduled workout, and then he would stay for several more hours afterward. He would automatically check the contact room for me and, without being asked, he would pick up a current file and go to work on the dozens of outstanding items. This had become a regular pattern, with Bling arriving earlier and leaving later each day.  
  
"Logan, I know you are concerned about putting someone else at risk, but you need to bring someone in to help you with this stuff. You can't continue on three hours sleep a night indefinitely." He reminded me again at 3:00 am a couple of weeks ago. I was buried in the Allan Lans file, trying to follow up on the material Nathan had given me, hoping to find some justice for my friend. In the meantime, all the other files that were arriving from the informant net were mounting up all around me.  
  
"I'll even do it. Just say the word, Man, and I'll be here." There was an uncharacteristic intensity in his voice and eyes.  
  
"What about your clients?" I asked cautiously.  
  
"Don't worry about them, Man. There are dozens of skilled therapists out there that could use the work. They will be well taken care of." He paused for a moment, then continued looking me right in the eyes. "I know the risks involved, but I want to work with you. There is no place I would rather be."   
  
"Okay." My stifled smile betrayed any reluctance that I may have tried to convey. By the end of the week, Bling had cleared his slate and was back here with me full time. He still maintains his own apartment, but there is so much to do that he rarely goes home. In any case, the security suite is his for as long as he wants it.  
  
With two of us reviewing the files on a regular basis, the work has become manageable once again. But the truth is, Bling has brought me much more than just some relief from work. I appreciate his wisdom and his strength and, since losing Nathan, I appreciate his friendship more than ever. He was there for me when Nathan was killed, when the world collapsed around me once again. And he has been there for me everyday these last two weeks. He keeps me strong in this war that I have chosen to fight, despite everything that happens around us. I'm grateful to have him.   



	32. Mon Nov 11, 2019 - Birthday (411 on the...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: 411 on the DL  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 32 - Monday November 11, 2019 - Birthday (411 on the DL)  
Summary: Logan's thoughts on his birthday  
  
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Monday November 11, 2019  
  
Today is my birthday. I'm 31 years old. Today is also Veteran's Day the old 20th Century holiday commemorating the soldiers that gave their lives in World War I and World War II. It's been more than one hundred years since the end of World War I, the war to end all wars, yet I have already seen so much bloodshed in my life.   
  
When I was a kid November 11th was mostly about my birthday. My mom and I would plan these massive birthday parties for me. We'd always invite my whole class. One year we even put up a circus tent on the back lawn and had real acrobats to teach us how to balance on the high wire and swing on the trapeze. The parties were wild and loud and long and my friends would always go home exhausted saying this was the best party they'd ever been to. In the early years I didn't understand that other kids couldn't afford parties like this. Sometimes I would hear my dad whispering to Mom that she was indulging me and she'd tell him to let me enjoy my childhood. It's as if she knew that my life would change someday.  
  
Yet despite all the fun and excitement of the day I would sometimes catch my Mom alone with a sadness in her eyes. After everyone had gone home I would ask her why she seemed so sad. When I was really young she would just smile and tell me that she was so proud of me, that I invited my whole class because it was important that we didn't leave anyone out. Even in those early days she was already teaching me to look outside myself and see the world and see other's needs.   
  
As I got older she would tell me more about Veteran's Day and its true meaning, of the cause of freedom and of those that sacrificed their lives for it. My mom had a reverence for soldiers, for those who fought for freedom. I think she got some of that from my Gramps who fought in Vietnam. She saw the effect it had on him and his friends when she was a child, the sacrifices they made. Then she would change the subject. "Did you have a good time today?"  
  
"Yeah Mom. It was the best!" I would always tell her.  
  
"Good. I'm glad. I want you to keep having fun with your friends."  
  
Then one year she added. "Logan, you know all those people that died in World War I and World War II, and your Gramps and his friends?"  
  
"Yeah Mom?"  
  
"I want you to remember that they fought so that you and I could have so much fun and freedom today. I'm really grateful for them and what they did for us. Someday when you grow up you might have to do the same thing so other kids and their moms can have cool birthday parties. You've been given a big gift. You are smart and strong and talented and you have a family who loves you. When you get older you will find out about other resources that are available to you. You'll be able to help a lot of people someday. I just want you to know that I am already so proud of you."  
  
I'd quickly give her a hug and take off to find my friends. I didn't really understand what she was saying then, about war and freedom and sacrifice, or even why she was so proud of me.   
  
After I lost my parents life changed for me. Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margo didn't care about the same things as my mom. They cared about image and money and power and prestige. They expected me to conform to their lifestyle so I learned how to be selfish and to use people. My birthdays in those years usually consisted of going out drinking with some guys from school and picking up some girls. I tried not to think too much about my mom then and I thought even less about Veteran's Day. For a long time even the pulse didn't affect me. I was insulated in my selfish little world. It was only after the disaster with Val and after Nathan Herrero came into my life that I started remembering my mom's words.   
  
I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. I haven't even told anyone when it is. But in the last few years I've thought a lot about Veteran's Day and whether I was doing my share for the world. It still seemed too easy to me. Even after I started Eyes Only I never really understood about sacrifice. I had enough money to do anything I wanted with Eyes Only, to pay off any informant, to hire whatever staff I needed, to buy any equipment I wanted. Sure I had to take security precautions but I wasn't really close to anyone and I didn't have a family to worry about.  
  
But this year I've learned about sacrifice, about paying a price. When you're young and passionate it's easy to say that you'll sacrifice your life for freedom. I know I thought I was prepared to die and so did Peter and his crew. And they did, they paid the ultimate price. But if I'd known ahead of time what I would be asked to sacrifice I don't know if I would have done it. This is not what I expected. I wasn't prepared to land in this chair. I wasn't prepared to redefine who I am, to factor my injury into my identity.   
  
I definitely wasn't prepared to have a woman come into my life now. Sometimes I feel like I've sacrificed my chance with her before we even got started. I don't know if what I have to offer could ever be enough for her. I don't know if I'll ever have the courage to have anything more than a friendship with her. I never expected this uncertainty. This is a price I never expected to pay.  
  
I've been thinking a lot about my mom lately. Her words have been coming back to me more strongly than ever. It's as if she knew she might not be here now, that she needed to tell me these things very early in my life. She needed me to know how she felt about those that fought for freedom. She knew that I would need to hear her words today, because now I know the true meaning of Veteran's Day. I know the price of freedom. 


	33. Tues Nov 12, 2019 - Valerie (411 on the ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: 411 on the DL  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 33 - Tuesday November 12, 2019 - Valerie (411 on the DL)  
Summary: Logan's ex-wife Valerie returns.  
  
  
  
Tuesday November 12, 2019  
  
She looked so beautiful this morning as she was nervously rearranging my furniture. And she's sober. There was clarity in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a long time.  
  
She said her primary activity these days was apologizing to people. Of course I'm on her short list. Apologize to friends, family the ex-husband. Just tick them off the list one by one and purge your conscience. My sarcasm lasted all of two minutes. With a few words she had ripped it away. She's always been able to do that to me.   
  
She said I was at the end of a very long list, that she had to work her way up to me. Why did she have to come back now to open up old wounds? I've already got enough to deal with.   
  
When we dated she was beautiful and funny and outgoing. I asked her to marry me several times but she always refused, saying she didn't deserve me. In those days I never understood why she would say that. I loved her and wanted to be with her. Then one day she said she was ready and asked me to marry her. She told me I was the most kind and beautiful man that she had ever met. That she loved my sly smile and wanted to see it every day.   
  
I tried so hard to treat her with the love and kindness she said she wanted, the way my Dad treated my Mom. In the beginning she accepted my efforts but then she started to pull away. It wasn't long before she was drinking every day, trying to fill a void I couldn't erase.   
  
I tried to take care of her, to take away her pain. I'd pick her up off the floor and clean her up; I'd put her to bed, sweep up the broken glass on the floor and throw out the burned abandoned meal in the kitchen. The next morning I'd try and smile and tell her everything would be okay. She'd yell at me and tell me to stop helping her, that she didn't need a caretaker.  
  
I thought that if I loved her enough that she would be able to stop drinking. But the more I tried the more she drank. She hated me for being kind to her because it didn't fit with the loathing she had for herself. She'd try to pick fights with me. She wanted me to yell and scream and throw things at her. But I couldn't. She was my wife.  
  
It's so ironic that she came back the day after my birthday. When I would give her something special for her birthday, she would always throw it back at me. She hated me for remembering her special days because she never remembered mine. It was just a reminder to her of her failure as a wife. So eventually I stopped wishing her Happy Birthday or Merry Christmas or Happy Valentines or Happy Anniversary.  
  
Eventually she started disappearing, first for hours then for days. Then one day she came home sober and asked me for twenty thousand dollars to enter a treatment program. She said she didn't want to tell me where it was, that she needed to do this herself so of course I gave her the cash. Uncle Jonas found her a week later shacked up with a guy in a dive somewhere. She had done a lot of things before but she had never outright lied to me. That was the end for us. I knew it and she knew it. We were divorced two weeks later. I gave her what she asked for a settlement and she walked out of my miserable life.   
  
I buried that part of my life. I never wrote about her. I tried not to think about her, how she failed me and how I failed her.   
  
This morning she told me that there was no one in the world she hurt more than me. And she's right. Yet I still love her after all this time. When I looked at her she seemed to be sincere. That she was truly sorry. God I hope its true. I so want it to be true.  
  
5:00 pm  
  
I spent the day with Val. It was just like those early days before all the crap came down upon us. We talked and enjoyed each other's company. Max caught us twice. Val called while Max was over and I couldn't for the life of me turn off that answering machine. Then Max conveniently showed up when we were coming back from the market. She seemed amused to find out I had an ex, but there was something in her eye that said she would prefer if Val wasn't around. Could she be jealous? Despite what I've been feeling about Max I thought we weren't like that.  
  
  
10:00 pm  
  
Max dropped a bomb on me about Val this afternoon and sure enough Val confirmed it. She almost left without the cash that I left out for her but in the end she came back for it. In the end it was all about the cash. Why do I keep trying to believe in things that aren't there? I'm such a fool.  
  
Somebody is destroying my doorbell. I wish they would just leave me alone.  
  
12:00 am  
  
I look like a drowned rat. Max and I walked around the park for hours in the rain. I've never had a friend like her before. She seems to understand me on an emotional level. We barely talked but her presence was so strong like she was telling me I wasn't alone. She's the one that's been making life bearable for me. She's always there when I need her and she was there again for me tonight.  



	34. Fri Nov 15, 2019 - New Shoes (Prodigy)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Prodigy  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 34 - Friday November 15, 2019 - New Shoes (Prodigy)  
Summary: Logan comes to a realization  
  
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Friday November 15, 2019  
  
New shoes  
With unmarked soles  
Worn every day  
Yet never used  
  
This afternoon, I picked up a pair of shoes to go with the tux we ordered for Bennett's wedding. I put them on in the store and then promptly forgot about them. When I got home, I still had them on. I was about to take them off to save them for the wedding when I discovered that, even though I had been wearing them for several hours, they still looked brand new. There wasn't a single scuff on them, nor a spec of dirt on the soles. I realized that even if I wear them all night, or all day tomorrow, or all week, or all month, they will still be brand new. I hadn't thought about that before. I will never wear out a pair of shoes again.  
  
Bennett asked me to be best man for his wedding, hence the tux and the new shoes. He could have asked any one of his brothers, but he asked me. He had that evil glint in his eye when he did it. He loves to stick it to his dad, and what better way than to have me beside him at the end of the aisle. I can go along with that. I have no problem with making Jonas squirm. Still, I'm not sure I want to subject myself to that crowd because, the truth is, they make me squirm as well. I told Bennett I would think about it. The wedding is months away, so it's not as if he can't find somebody else. He said I'm the man until I say no. So as "the man", I spent the afternoon with him getting fitted for tuxedos.   
  
Even in this post pulse world, you can find anything you want if you are willing to spend the money. The staff at the tailor's was very professional and didn't even blink an eye at me rolling in there in a wheelchair. I'm used to clerks in stores looking down on me, seeing through me, talking over me, but never talking to me directly. My favorite clerk, though, is the one that thinks I am deaf and dumb. He completely ignores me and asks who ever is with me what I want. Bling, of course, always sets him straight. "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?" he retorts with barely restrained anger. I think he gets more irritated than I do. In fact, responses like that are so absurd that they are almost amusing.   
  
But today, there was none of that. Today, the staff acknowledged me. I tried to tell myself that they were just acknowledging the cash in my pocket, but it was more than that. They were more than professional, they were kind. They easily accommodated the chair, as if they see paraplegic clients on a regular basis. A wheelchair? No big deal. Some customers have them and some customers don't. Some customers wear hats, some customers don't. They treated me like a regular client, no condescension, no pity, just a professional demeanor. That was not at all what I expected today. It has caught me off guard and has completely shaken me. It would have been easier if they had treated me like all the clerks out there. That I could have understood, because I don't feel like a regular customer. I realize that now more than ever. I'm not regular. I'm not normal.  
  
Playing basketball these last few weeks has opened my eyes to what life as a paraplegic really is. I had truly been isolated before, not understanding what was possible and what was not. I don't even know how most of these guys survived their injuries in the first place. None of them has a Bling in their lives to make things easier for them, or the cash to pay for professional help. They have had to rely on a broken medical system and family and friends to help them through. They spend hours after the game talking about their lives, their challenges with work and unemployment. They talk about their families and about the responsibilities that are more difficult than ever to meet. They talk about the lack of accessibility in this city as the infrastructure continues to crumble around us. Yet they somehow remain positive. They support each other in finding solutions and then they apply them in their lives. They have accepted their limitations and made a life in spite of them.   
  
And, of course, they play basketball. They play this game for a few hours each week, seeking a diversion, a fleeting moment of strength and speed and power. I am just like them in this. In our daily lives, we lack power, we lack strength. No matter how independent we are, we are never completely free. So we play against each other on an equal playing field. We compete and win and lose. We feel normal for a few minutes. But when the game is over, reality rushes back in. I am not normal. I am not equal.  
  
Despite what Bling says, and the hope he tries to give me, I know my legs don't work and probably never will. Now I know the facts. I know that, barring a miracle, I will never walk again. Up to this point, I somehow felt that my paralysis and this wheelchair, and all the frustration that goes with them, were somehow temporary. But now I realize that they are not. I have realized that I am trapped in this chair. No amount of upper body strength will compensate for legs that don't work. No amount of rehab or basketball or adaptations will change that. They are just momentary diversions. They just take my life from unbearable to barely tolerable. This is my new reality. I'm just like Jack and Derek and George on that basketball court. They have been in their chairs one year, five years, ten years, and they are not getting out. Neither am I.  
  
In a few years, I could be in Jack's position, strong, fit, athletic, seemingly well adjusted, but still in that chair. I could be running a basketball league and training new players. I could even be playing at the national level. And my legs will be like Jacks, completely atrophied, just skin and bone. But in one area, I doubt I will ever be like Jack. I have barely made it through these last six months by focusing on work, Max, basketball, anything to get my mind off my situation. I have been so focused on surviving each day that I have not even considered the future. Now I have realized that I have come essentially as far as I can. I am already living in my future. There will be no dramatic changes. Tomorrow will be like today, and so will next month, and next year, and the year after that. I doubt that I have the endurance to live like this for one year, let alone a few years, or the rest of my life. How will I ever be able to accept this life?  
  



	35. Mon Nov 18, 2019 - Falls (Prodigy)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Prodigy  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Chapter 35 - Monday November 18, 2019 - Falls (Prodigy)  
Summary: A typical day in the life of a hero. Why did Logan try so hard to get back into the chair before Max found him? Was it a macho thing?  
  
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Monday November 18, 2019  
  
10:00 am  
I fell out of my chair this morning just as Max was walking in the door. That meant I had less than a minute to get back in the chair before she found me. Bling and I have been working on this since he hooked me up with the wheelchair basketball league several weeks ago. On the court, you are almost guaranteed to fall out of your chair at least once in a game, and you have to get back in fast because the game just goes on without you. There are no whistles for dumped chairs. The key is to get my hands far enough up on the chair so that my hips will clear the seat, and to have enough explosive power in my pecs and triceps that I can pop back in quickly. The first time I tried to do this in a game, I think I missed a whole quarter of play. Bling and I have got it down to just over two minutes now. It's one of the many things we work on every day. I'll climb out of the chair and Bling will place it in some awkward position, usually out of my reach. He'll sometimes even dump it on top of me. Then with the stopwatch ticking, my job is to get back in as fast as I can. I'd like to get it down to thirty seconds, but I'm not quite there yet. The sticking point has been getting my hips clear. If my injury had been just a fraction of an inch lower, I would have the additional abdominal control I need, but it's not. So I spend hours everyday building up my upper body strength to compensate. In some ways, I am in the best shape I have ever been in my life. It's too bad that it had to come at such a heavy price.  
  
Today, with Max walking in the door, I didn't have two to three minutes to get back in the chair. I barely had one. So I broke my own record and somehow managed to get back in the chair before she found me. I'm sure I looked ridiculous, and she probably figured out that something was going on, but I don't care. I could have waited for her and let her help me, or I could have taken my time and let her watch, but I didn't want to see that look in her eyes when she watches me struggle, that look of sorrow and pain. Bling would just stand there and let me do what I needed to do, but Max can't do that. She needs to help.   
  
This morning, help was not what I needed. I needed my independence, whatever small threads of it are left. I'm going to hang onto that independence. I don't care if I'm overcompensating. I don't care if I look ridiculous. I don't care if it would be so much easier to let someone give me a hand sometimes. I've been forced to rely on others for so many things, things I will never be able to do by myself again. So if I can do something by myself, I will do it. I don't care if it's a struggle. I've worked and fought so hard for my independence and I'm going to exercise it every time I can.   
  
Of course to top it off, Max, my always helpful friend, walked in talking about Dr. Tanaka, miracle worker, who can cure whatever ails you with a little genetic engineering. I cut Max off in mid sentence. She was only trying to help, but I didn't even let her finish her thought. I knew what she was going to say, and it was the last thing I needed to hear. When I'm struggling to accept my reality, I don't want to hear about miracle doctors and miracle cures. I don't have room for false hopes and more failures. I don't have the capacity to deal with that right now.   
  
9:00 p.m.  
  
I have been in more extreme situations since I met Max than in my whole life previously. They started the day we met and have intensified from there. Today was the most extreme yet. I don't know how we will ever top this one.  
  
Our dive off the roof today was unbelievable. It would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so terrifyingly real. It was more like something out of a superhero comic book. The superhero and heroine fly through the air, bullets whizzing all around them, crash through a window, land painlessly on a bed, give each other a passionate kiss, then go on to save the world. That pretty much sums up our day. Except for the kiss.   
  
Actually, even the kiss almost happened. I came as close to kissing Max today as I ever have. She looked so beautiful lying there on top of me, her eyes flashing in anger that I would put myself into danger for her, as if she hadn't just done the same thing for me. Our shock and relief that we were both still alive poured out in a jumble of words. I can't even remember who said what.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"You should be thanking me!"  
  
"Thanking you?"  
  
"You would have been thrown off the roof if it wasn't for me!"   
  
When she moved to get up, I just couldn't let her go. I yanked on the rope that was still tied around her waist and brought her to within an inch of my face. I can't believe I did that! Then for a moment, it seemed like she wanted the same thing, that she was about to kiss me. It must have been the adrenaline from our wild escape that sent us both over the top. But at the last moment, good sense prevailed and I let her go. We fumbled with the rope for a second before we got her untied, then she was heading for the door, trying to compose herself. She gave me a final embarrassed look, like she was confused about what had just happened between us. She is so beautiful when she is flustered. But in a flash, the look was gone as she dusted herself off and took off to save the day.   
  
I lay there on the bed for a while, replaying the scene in my head, not quite believing it had just happened. It took me a few minutes to realize I had better make myself useful. Then I grabbed the phone and called Bling to get the wheels rolling on finding a new home for Jude. The informant net foster care placement agency was back in business.   
  
Max got Jude out. She has an intense protectiveness for all children. She will always do whatever it takes to protect them. Maybe it is her own lost childhood that brings it out. I could see the compassion in her eyes. That little boy has just lost the only father he has ever known. We can't let him fall into the hands of Lydecker, or the countless others who would jump at the opportunity to exploit him. He deserves a real life. We won't let him lose his childhood. We can do that for him. We can do that for Max.  
  
This morning, I was so frustrated with my circumstances. I barely resisted Darius' men as they pushed me off that roof. A part of me was glad not to have to fight any more. I was just grateful that it was me, they were throwing off the roof, rather than Max. My life does not mean that much. Then Max's hand presented itself so I grabbed it. Now I'm still flying from our airborne adventure. There are falls and then there are FALLLLLLLLLLLS. Life can change so dramatically sometimes. I can't help laughing as I think about it. I need to find a new wheelchair to replace the one destroyed on the roof. I should probably look for one with power thrusters.   
  
A superhero's gotta have his super toys.  
  



	36. Fri Nov 22, 2019 - G.I. Joe (Cold Comfor...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Cold Comfort  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta Zanna who has gone through rewrite hell with me on these chapters. They would have been nowhere without her input.  
  
Chapter 36 - Friday November 22, 2019 - G.I. Joe (Cold Comfort)  
Summary: Logan meets Zack.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Friday November 22, 2019  
  
I met G.I. Joe today, Max's brother, Zack, the alpha male, the perfect soldier. He has all of Max's militaristic qualities, but in him they are magnified tenfold. Max has attempted to let go of her Manticore training, but Zack has held onto it like a lifeline.  
  
He claims he is a soldier, cold, calculating and unfeeling. He puts security above everything else. I could see the extreme distrust in his eyes. Outside the X5s, he doesn't know what a friend is, nor does he have anyone he can trust. To him, feelings are a liability and emotions cloud judgment. They are more than useless, they will get you killed. He may think that he can convince others that he is right. He may think he can convince himself. But I know that, despite his claims, Zack is driven by emotions.  
  
He is full of hate and anger and a ferocious love for his siblings. Everything he does for them is driven by his feelings. I see his intense love for Max and her love for him. I see their fear and concern for their sister, Brin. Behind his ranting about carelessness and OPSEC is a desperate concern for Brin's welfare. When it comes to Brin, Zack seems to have lost all his strategic skills. He seems to have lost his ability to think. He couldn't think clearly enough to realize that, if Lydecker has returned Brin to Manticore, there would be a military trail of some sort. He couldn't think clearly enough to even look for a trail. He couldn't think past the fact that he had lost her.   
  
Zack may have been bred and trained to be the perfect soldier. He may be able to jump twenty feet and kill a man with one hand. He may be stronger and faster and more intelligent than I am, though I doubt that after today's demonstration. He may be able to do everything that I can't do. But in the end, he is just a man, driven by his emotions. No amount of posturing will hide that.   
  
If Zack thinks he can control Max with his attitude, he is greatly mistaken. If he thinks he can control me, he is greatly mistaken. He first words to me were a command to stay out of it. Does he think that I will back off now? I'm not staying out of anything, especially if it concerns Max. She needs my help and so does he. He could be much more effective if he would realize the fact that he doesn't have to fight every battle alone. But I doubt this will ever get through that military issue, armor plated skull of his.  
  
So now in an attempt to find Brin, we tracked down some leads on Lydecker, the super spook, the creator of G.I. Joe and all the X5s. Max and Zack are out there looking for the man that has been hunting them for the last ten years. If I could get a handle on this guy, I would understand what kind of risk they are subjecting themselves to. What did he do to those children that Zack would accuse him of murdering his own wife? Zack said it so easily, as if he expects Lydecker to be behind every evil act that has ever been committed. It's easy to believe that Zack's anger and distrust come from Lydecker, but what about Max's compassion? Did Max and Zack become who they are because of Lydecker or in spite of him?   
  
Lydecker's D.O.D. records are amazing, Purple Heart, Legion of Merit. He was an exemplary career soldier. He graduated at the top of his OCS class. He saw action in Panama, Kuwait and Somalia, all the major late twentieth century conflicts. The military in the nineteen nineties was not the same as the military today. It was the military of General Colin Powell, an organization of integrity. It would have required exceptional conduct in a leadership position to earn the Legion of Merit. I'm not sure how to reconcile that soldier with the man that Max and Zack know.  
  
The death of Lydecker's wife in 1995 must have had a catastrophic effect on him. Still, the man I met at the hotel did not appear to be the monster that Zack and Max remember. He wasn't just shorter than I expected, he was much more human. I have dealt with many truly evil people over the years and I have seen the kind of evil that no façade can hide. Yet, I did not see that in Lydecker. That coldness was not in his eyes. Has he softened since those early days with the X5s? The man is still a complete mystery to me. Why would he create a group of genetically enhanced children only to torture them in an attempt to fit them into some twisted idea of the perfect soldier? How could he put so much effort into them and then shoot one of them in cold blood? How did he manage to train those children so successfully that even he has not been able to recapture them since their escape? What has driven him all these years to continue hunting them down? What took him from the fast track to edge that he is standing on now? I wonder if we will ever know.  
  



	37. Sat Nov 23, 2019 - He Knows Her Face (Co...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Cold Comfort  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta Zanna who has gone through rewrite hell with me on these chapters. They would have been nowhere without her input.  
  
  
Chapter 37 - Saturday November 23, 2019 - He knows her face (Cold Comfort)  
Summary: Logan realizes the risk Max is facing.  
  
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Saturday November 23, 2019  
  
5:00 pm  
  
Zack came back this afternoon to shake down some other leads on Brin. Last night, Max kidnapped Lydecker outside an AA meeting of all places, and he has convinced her that he doesn't have Brin. Zack never intended for them to capture Lydecker. He called what Max did a bad case of mission creep. He may consider himself the CO, but it appears that he has about as much success convincing Max to listen to him as I do.  
  
It appears that Lydecker was on the level with this one. There is another player out there in the biosynth market. My contact has confirmed that they are about to fill an order placed by the Chinese government. I passed on the location to Zack. He and Max will attempt to free Brin tonight.  
  
Zack displayed his typical militaristic qualities while he was here. As usual, he was abrupt, distrusting, and impatient, but I saw much more hidden under his harsh exterior. Zack is only three years older than Max, but he carries a much bigger burden than she does. I thought Max's eyes were old, but Zack has seen even more than she has. He has taken upon himself the responsibility for all the X5's. He feels personally accountable for their safety. He has probably always filled this role, CO, protector, big brother. In his eyes, he is the only protector the X5s have.   
He feels like he has failed Brin, that it is his fault she was captured. If he had done his job she would be free. I understand the weight on his shoulders because I have felt it too. I understand being responsible for someone's welfare, but not being able to protect them. For a moment this afternoon, I understood the sorrow in his eyes when he talked about her.  
  
Then, in an instant the harsh commander was back covering up any emotions that may have betrayed themselves. Zack recognized that there is something between Max and I, and I recognize the same something in him. There was more than brotherly concern in his eyes today. He accused me of being the biggest threat to Max's safety. He said I am keeping her in Seattle, that I am the reason she is staying here. He is completely wrong about this. Max is staying in Seattle because she chooses to. I am not compelling her to do anything. I have always tried to protect Max. I have been there for her in difficult situations. I have risked my life for her and I would do so again. If he thinks that I am going to back off, he is greatly mistaken. He may be able to snap my neck with one hand, but there is nothing he could do to me that has not already been attempted. I am not afraid of him.  
  
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11:00 pm  
Max reluctantly stayed and ate with me this evening. Her mind was still on her brother and sister. It hurts her deeply that she allowed Brin to be returned to Manticore. But despite Max's current sadness, I can see an underlying gratefulness that she was able to spend even a few moments with Brin. She feels the same way about Zack. Her complaints about his harshness and obsessions are always accompanied by a contented smile. I see the gentleness in her eyes when she looks at him or talks about him. She has her brother back. Part of the hole in her heart has been filled. Max would love to have Zack around more often. She needs her brother in her life. That is obvious to me. These X5 kids have a powerful bond. They have been separated for ten years, but now that they are reunited, it is obvious that they are meant to be together.   
  
Max left early this evening needing some time alone to think. She is probably climbing the Space Needle wishing Zack was with her. She misses Brin. She misses Zack. I miss Max. She has only been gone a couple of hours, but the apartment is too quiet without her. I understood that she needed her space so I didn't ask her to stay longer. At least, we were able to eat together. Eating meals alone no longer has any appeal for me, but now I must prepare myself for the possibility that I may be eating alone once again. I had not considered it before, but there is a distinct possibility that Max may have to leave.  
  
Lydecker knows what Max looks like now. He knows her face. He knows she is in Seattle. He will waste no time in using that knowledge to track her down. Zack's comments about Max's security no longer seem absurd. It is possible that I may be compromising her security by encouraging her to stay near me. A few hours ago, I didn't think so, but now circumstances have changed once again. Zack may be right.   
  
We have just begun to develop our friendship. I have never told Max how much light she brings into my life. Now, I may never get the opportunity. I dread the thought of losing her and going back to an empty life. I cannot live that way anymore.  
  
  



	38. Wed Nov 27, 2019 - Bad News (Blah Blah W...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Blah Blah Woof Woof  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 38- Wednesday November 27, 2019 - Bad News (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
Summary: Logan discovers that he will need additional surgery  
  
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Wednesday November 27, 2019  
  
3:00 am  
  
I can't sleep. The back spasms that started after Max left have been coming in waves all evening. It was a good thing I turned down her invitation to go to Crash this evening because I have been in no shape to go anywhere. It's not as if I have ever agreed to go there with her. She has invited me every night this week. And every night I have turned her down. I just can't see myself in that place.  
  
"No fun for Logan Cale. The world's coming to an end." She mocked me as she was leaving. "Blah blah, woof woof."   
  
The truth is, she is right. I am not part of her lighthearted world. I don't belong there. I understand that much about myself. I can't allow myself to pretend that everything is okay when it's not. That is not who I am. Still, I appreciate the humor with which she sees the world and I'm glad that she brings some of that into my life.   
  
Max has been over for dinner and chess every night this week. Our evenings together are the highlight of my day. In the last few weeks, we've developed a level of comfort with each other that I never expected. I feed her dinner and in return she mocks Eyes Only and slaughters me at chess. I couldn't ask for anything more. Still, our recent run-in with Lydecker has opened my eyes to how tentative her situation truly is. I hope she never has to leave because she is the only thing that has been making my life bearable. She takes my mind off my disappointments for a few minutes each day.   
  
I'm not surprised that these spasms are happening, now that I'm already having a challenge keeping my life together. We wouldn't want to get too comfortable. We wouldn't want to spend too much time whining about how bad things are, because they can always get worse. I know what is happening tonight falls in the latter category. Things are getting worse. Again.  
  
I don't know what it is, but I know it's bad. Bling won't be able to fix this one. It is not a simple muscle ache. It is something much deeper, something definitely wrong. It's going to require Sam's attention, if it can be fixed at all, and I have no guarantee of that. I can hear Sam's voice now.  
  
"Logan, I have bad news...."  
  
That's the story of my life.  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, your mother is dying."  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, your wife is an alcoholic."  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, your body guard died trying to protect you."  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, you are a paraplegic."  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, you directed an assassin to your friend's door."  
  
"Logan, I have bad news, the world is coming to an end."  
  
Blah blah, woof woof. Bad news. I am so familiar with it. It's a constant in our world and a constant in my life. So I just deal. I deal with the consequences. Then I move on. That is what I have done in the past and that is what I will continue to do. That is what I will do this morning. Sam will give me his bad news. I will accept it. I will do what I have to do. Then I will move on and steel myself for the next round of bad news.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
1:00 pm  
  
I'm going in for more surgery tomorrow. Bruno Anselmo reached out from my past and shot me again. A bullet fragment that was not removed during the first surgery is impacting my spinal cord and causing the back spasms. This fragment is lodged much higher in my spine, so if we do nothing, it could migrate further and cause much more damage. Sam said I could end up quadriplegic or even on a ventilator. I believe that qualifies as bad news. How could I function without the use of my hands or my arms? I can't even fathom that possibility.   
  
What scares me more, though, is that the surgery itself is likely to cause additional damage. If they need to go in even an inch or two higher, I could lose control of my abdominal muscles. I would lose my sitting stability. I would not even be able to sit straight in a chair. The months of work Bling and I have done to rebuild my abdominals would disappear in an instant. I can understand this, and the prospect haunts me more than anything. No one should have to deal with this. No one should even have to think about this.   



	39. Th Nov 28, 2019 - Sad Waltz (Blah Blah W...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Blah Blah Woof Woof  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 39- Thursday November 28, 2019 - Sad Waltz (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
Summary: Logan deals with his upcoming surgery and the prospect of losing Max.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Thursday November 28, 2019  
  
2:00 am  
  
I'm beginning to understand Nathan now, how he was even able to consider abandoning the cause for Rebecca and Alina. He was grasping at the hope of some happiness, some love in his life. In the end, the people he loved were the most important thing to him. Matt also has that. He has his work, but his family is his number one priority. His love for them supercedes everything else. I used to wonder what it felt like to care for somebody so much that you are willing to give up everything just to protect her. I had never been in a position before where I had to choose, but now I understand. Max's safety is more important to me than my own life.   
  
Yesterday, my fears about Lydecker were fulfilled. It took him only four days to plaster Max's face on every lamppost in this city. Sam told me to get some rest, but I didn't get any rest at all. Instead, I found myself pushing through the day, helping Zack break Max out of South Market and then driving them both to the family cabin. I felt every rut and pothole as I drove the thirty miles of side roads to and from that cabin. It took all my determination to hide that pain from Max. I am still feeling the effects now. The pain in my back has been intensifying all night. I'm sure the trip did wonders in preparing me for surgery in the morning, but I don't really care. It doesn't matter what happens to me as long as Max is safe.  
  
Bling suggested I might be able to reunite with Max after my surgery. What an impossible dream! I know it, and Max knows it, too. She knew my answer before she asked me to leave with her. I could hear the hopelessness in her voice. It would be impossible for me to keep up with her. My body doesn't have the strength or the endurance. She can't wait for me now, and she won't be able to wait for me on the road. What would she do the next time something happens? She won't be able to stop and drop me off at the nearest medical center. This surgery is a perfect example of what a liability I am to her. If she knew about it, she wouldn't leave. She would insist on staying and seeing me through this. But she can't wait. She needs to leave now. Although I yearn to go with her, even if I make it through tomorrow, I have my own responsibilities to face. I can never abandon Eyes Only. My own little needs are insignificant compared to the enormous need that exists in the world. I can never abandon my work. Max can't stay and I can't leave. We are both trapped by our circumstances.   
  
I'm listening to Valse Triste again, Sibelius' sad waltz. It seemed so appropriate to me as I grabbed the CD on my way out the door with Zack. I knew that if we succeeded in rescuing Max, she would never be coming back. Max understood that right away when she heard the music. The kiss she gave me was so sad and so final. She knew that she would never see me again. Valse Triste was written for a play in which an old woman rises from her deathbed and finds herself at a ball. The music begins softly, gently, as her escort leads her in a waltz. Then as the evening progresses, the music becomes more intense and she is swept up in a wave of frantic motion. Finally, the music slows once more and the woman discovers that only she and her escort remain. She realizes then that it is her dead husband who has come to claim her. Understanding that it is her time, she goes with him willingly. Their sad waltz brought them back together. Max will never again be with me. The rescue, the drive to the cabin, and our only kiss were our sad waltz, but our sad waltz has ripped us apart.  
  
I haven't seen a storm like this in ages. The rain is pouring down in sheets, streaming down my windows. The skies are mourning again, mourning with me for something that never was. The death of a relationship can happen so quickly at times. Our relationship died before it even got started. At this moment, I don't have the strength to will myself through tomorrow's surgery. Maybe it would be better if I died, then this pain would end. The pain in my back has been increasing steadily and so has the pain in my soul. I don't know which is worse. I can't begin to describe the sadness I feel at the prospect of life without Max. I wish I had asked her to stay. I wish I had said something. But I did the right thing. I ensured her freedom and safety. And I always do the right thing. Right?  
  



	40. Tue Dec 3, 2019 - Dreams (Blah Blah Woof...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Blah Blah Woof Woof  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 40 - Tuesday December 3, 2019 - Dreams (Blah Blah Woof Woof)  
Summary: Logan's thoughts after the surgery  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Tuesday December 3, 2019  
  
They let me come home today. Sam said that I am recovering surprisingly well, but I'm not surprised at all. I know the reason I am doing so well is Max's enhanced blood. It's the only explanation I have. Max shared her blood with me and she saved my life.   
  
Max and I had our dance after all, even though it was only in my dreams. For a beautiful moment, I was standing with her in my arms. The chair, and all the barriers that keep us apart, just faded away. We danced our sad waltz, but she didn't pull me away from life, she pulled me towards it. She was there, making me promise not to let go, asking me not to leave her. And I kept my promise. I held on to life. I didn't leave her.  
  
Then for a brief moment after I regained consciousness, when Max hummed Valse Triste, I thought that she remembered our dream. I thought that she had shared much more than her blood with me. I forgot that she had heard the music in the car. But beautiful as it was, it was not her dream. It was my dream. So I am not disappointed. I know reality is not a hazy dream world. I can understand the desperation Max felt when she kissed me goodbye because I felt it as well. We kissed each other with all the desperation of our souls. How else could we express the loss we were about to face? Now in the light of day Max has asked me to set that kiss aside. I can do that for her. I am not surprised that Max does not have a romantic interest in me. In spite of our closeness, our relationship has never been like that. I am just grateful that she is still in my life.  
  
The last four days have had an unreal quality. I woke up to see Sam and Bling grinning at me like idiots. Sam was telling me an incoherent story about some girl he remembered from last time and blood shortages and makeshift transfusions. Then, with that idiot grin still on his face, Bling mouthed the one word that made it all clear. Max. Max came back for me. She transfused her own blood into me and saved my life. She was willing to risk her life and her freedom for me. But she didn't lose her freedom. She was still here. It was a dream come true.   
  
I woke up again, a few hours later and Max was eating my lunch, flaunting her usual irreverent attitude. She brought an instant smile to my face and kept it there every day. She was there every morning when I woke up, eating my breakfast, of course, and she returned every evening for our game of chess. She even smuggled in pizza and burgers, and in return she polished off my dinner trays. I can't believe that she can eat hospital food without gagging. That appetite of hers is insatiable.   
  
Max made staying in that God forsaken hospital endurable. Even though I hate everything about hospitals, and my previous stay still haunts me, I let Sam keep me there for four days. In the past, I would have checked myself out the moment I had enough strength to sign the release forms. I would have left whether I was ready or not. In this case, I could easily have come home the day after the surgery and it would not have been premature. With Max's blood inside me, I healed that rapidly. But Sam doesn't know about genetically engineered prototypes and enhanced blood. So I humored him and stayed as long as he asked me to.   
  
Everything is different when Max is around. She brings a brightness into my life that I can't find elsewhere. Despite the hardship she has had to face, she brings hope with her. She has great hope that her life will change, that she will find her brothers and sisters, and she gives me hope that somehow my life will change as well. I feel an intense gratitude for her and for the closeness that we share.  
  
Now, I'm reviewing the backlog of reports that accumulated on the informant net in the last four days. I am back in reality. The moment I wheeled back into my apartment, I left the dream world behind. Yet, even though I am in the real world, I have so many dreams. I dream that I can walk again. I dream that I have someone to care for. I dream that someone cares for me. I dream that I can change this world. I dream that somehow, someday, my dreams may become reality.  
  



	41. Wed Jan 1, 2019 - New Year (Out)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Out  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 41 - Wednesday January 1, 2020 - New Year (Out)  
Summary: Logan celebrates the New Year.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Wednesday January 1, 2020  
  
Happy New Year, Seattle. This city is tearing itself apart again. Mobs are rioting in the streets, infuriated by the lack of power, the lack of food and the lack of hope in this city. They began by attempting to celebrate the New Year, but rapidly realized there was nothing to celebrate. Most of those people have nothing to look forward to. The next year will give them as much poverty, injustice and pain as the previous year did.   
  
Max is sleeping in the guestroom. We shared a couple of glasses of wine and then she went to bed. It's ironic that she would choose tonight of all nights to sleep. Yet even she isn't willing to risk being out on the streets on a night like this. I'm grateful that she is here with me tonight. I've grown tired of ushering in the New Year by myself. Max has spent a lot of time here in the last month. I have been cooking for her often and she has even begun using the guestroom more frequently. I have appreciated the time she has shared with me. She even brought a spark back into my Christmas season.   
  
It was amusing seeing Christmas through Max's eyes. She was more than a little mystified by the whole Christmas tradition. I got an earful about the 'Do' that Cindy and Kendra had been planning for weeks. Max wasn't quite able to understand what the big dealio was with them. She couldn't believe that Cindy even threatened to put the smack down on her ass if she didn't make it to this thing. That was definitely good enough for a laugh from me. It appears that, in addition to birthdays, Manticore also wasn't big on Christmas. I'm glad that she has friends to help her discover it now. It's too bad that she was never able to experience the carefree Christmases that I enjoyed as a child. In our world, that is no longer possible even for the children. Since the pulse, Christmas everywhere has lost the excitement that I remember from my childhood. Who can afford to celebrate that way anymore? In some ways, I'm glad it's no longer the excuse for excessive consumerism that it used to be. It has become a much simpler holiday once again. At least, we can still take the opportunity to spend some time with those who are important to us.  
  
I convinced Max to come over for a few minutes on Christmas day before the big dealio with her boos. I wanted to give her something to let her know how much I appreciate her, but I knew I couldn't really do that, so I just tried to give her something that she would like. Max is definitely not a traditional flowers and jewelry kind of girl. From prior experience, I knew she would have fenced anything shiny that I could have given her in the time it would have taken to say 'cash'. So I just skipped a step and bought her a new suspension system for her baby. She seemed relatively pleased with it as she uttered a quick 'cool' before blazing off, but not before giving me a gift as well, two mandarin oranges. She must have some excellent connections at that market on Freemont. First she gave me a grapefruit for my birthday, now these oranges for Christmas. I have to admit, they are the best gifts I've received in years. I suspect that the person that is giving them must also have something to do with it. The truth is, Max has given me much more than a couple of gifts. She doesn't realize how much light she brings into my life when she is here. I just wish I were able to hold onto more of it when she leaves.   
  
After Max left, I made an obligatory appearance at Uncle Jonas'. Christmas at the Cales' is always a joy. An intimate dinner with two hundred of their dearest friends was just what I needed. I gave my greetings to Jonas and Margo, and then I left. I didn't even bother to stay for the food. I'm sure Jonas spent the remainder of the evening looking for me. That is if he could remember my face at all. Sometimes I wonder why I even waste my time going to these things. Still, every year I find myself going back there, looking for something that I should know I will never find. I miss the closeness and innocence of Christmas with my parents. I miss our family connection. Uncle Jonas may be my father's brother, but he can never recreate those moments. At times like this, Christmas only serves to remind me of the things that are missing in my life.  
  
Now I'm sitting here by myself, contemplating the irony of last year. I lost my friends, my legs and my confidence. Then a beautiful woman walked into my life. When I had the strength and ability to be an equal partner in a relationship, there was no one in my life. Now that I can never be whole again, Max has appeared. During those few moments when she is around, she fills the void in my soul. But at times, I don't know what is worse, having her around or not having her at all. She symbolizes to me all the things I can't have, strength, freedom, power, beauty, love. Sometimes she looks at me like she wants more from me. I want more, too, but how can I give her more? How can I? What have I got to offer besides some food and some friendship? I wish I hadn't made such a mess of my life. I will never be able to put the last year behind me. It will affect everything I do from now on. I am just like those people out on the streets tonight. I know that the next year will be much the same as the last. Nothing will change for me either. Sometimes I wish I could turn my mind off and forget all my failures. If I could just find one thing to focus on, then maybe all the holes in my life will disappear. Then maybe I will be able to endure the next year.  
  
  
  
  



	42. Tue, Jan 14, 2020 - Blackness (Out)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Out  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 42 - Tuesday January 14, 2020 - Blackness (Out)  
Summary: Logan struggles with the challenges of his life.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Tuesday January 14, 2020  
  
Max and Bling have been irritating me to no end lately. Max keeps offering to cook for me to return the favor for all the times I've cooked for her. She has been so persistent, so I finally said yes just to get her off my back. That means I will have to go to her place next week. A whole evening will be wasted when I could be here working. Bling has that stupid gleam in his eye again. I've seen it before when we talk about Max. He's probably chanting to himself, "Logan has a date!" Why can't he get it through his thick skull that dinner with Max is not a date? It never has been and never will be. I don't have time to waste on so called 'dates'. I'm not going to be around forever. I need to do what I can now. I don't have time for frivolity.  
  
I've discovered the cause of the city's blood supply shortage. The shortage that almost killed me was not just a freak occurrence, neither was it a part of a string of coincidences. There appears to be a new player on the block, Gerhardt Bronck. He is siphoning off the blood supply and shipping it out of the country.  
  
First cortodiazapine, now the city's blood supply, will these guys ever stop? I am sick and tired of this endless war. I bring down one scum lord and another takes his place. The mayor is still in office, completely immune to the fallout of the cortodiazapine crisis. He is as responsible as Edgar Sonrisa ever was, but he is insulated in his corrupt world. Now this guy, Bronck, has appeared, stealing the city's blood. Who knows what else he is involved in?  
  
It's been a never-ending stream of thugs and powerbrokers. What they do affects every single one of us. No one is insulated from their activities, especially not me. A person walking by Fogle Towers probably looks up at this building thinking how lucky we must be to live here. We live in nice apartments. We have lots of money. We are protected. What a load of crap! My money has done nothing for me. I can't buy blood when there is none out there. I can't buy a new spinal cord when some creep shoots me because I am affecting his profit margin. I can't rent functioning legs for a day or even a minute.  
  
Sometimes this world seems so black to me. Sometimes my life seems so black. I've been struggling against an awful blackness that's been enveloping me. It seems to be growing darker every day. I'm not sure exactly when it started or why. Maybe it was when I realized I was never going to walk again. Maybe it was when I realized my wheelchair would be a permanent fixture in my life. Maybe it happened these last couple of weeks since the second surgery. With Max's blood inside me I have felt so much stronger. I don't know if I was halfheartedly expecting anything more, but nothing has changed. My legs still don't work. It's awful losing your hope. It takes the joy out of everything.  
  
Come on Logan! Wake up! This is the world you live in. People don't become nice just because you are a little tired. Miracles don't happen just because you want them to. It's your fault anyway. You put yourself in this position. You wanted to fight the fight. No one forced you to be in that car that day. So just deal. You are not that important. You are just another gnat buzzing around people's heads. You should expect to be swatted out of the way every so often.   
  
Forget your own problems. Just ignore them. They aren't going anywhere. Nothing will change for you. So just focus on something else. Do your work! There is a much bigger picture out there. You can still do research. You can still make a broadcast. Focus on that. Nothing else matters anyway. You don't matter. Your life is nothing. All that matters is that the message gets out.   
  
  



	43. Wed Jan 22, 2020 - Priorities (Out)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Out  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 43 - Wednesday January 22, 2020 - Priorities (Out)  
Summary: Logan rethinks his priorities  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Wednesday January 22, 2020  
  
I haven't heard from Max in two days and I'm beginning to worry about her. I need to know that she is okay. When the phone rang a few minutes ago, I was sure it was her. I hadn't realized how much I had been waiting for her call. But it was Matt's voice on the telephone instead of Max's.   
  
Two days ago, she gave up on me. She quit, accusing me of not caring about her. I was half-glad that she left. Fine! Let her go. Sometimes she is more trouble than she is worth. She was the one who dragged me away from work, but she couldn't understand that I didn't intentionally change our plans. I had so much work to do, but I didn't cancel our dinner appointment. I even let Bling shove a bottle of wine into my hands on the way out the door. It wasn't my fault that my informant called when he did. She should know by now that, when the opportunity presents itself, we need to act. Why couldn't she understand that bringing down Gerhardt Bronck was more important than a stupid meal? We could eat at any time. What difference does a few hours make?  
  
Matt has acquired some excellent information on Bronck, but now I realize that Gerhardt Bronck is not really as important to me as I thought. Max is the one I worry about. Max is the one I care about. It's Max's voice I want to hear. When Max quit, she accused me of hiding behind a Halloween mask. She said I was obsessed with my work, that it is all I ever talk about, all I ever think about. That is so ironic because my work has felt like the only sane, solid thing in my disastrous life. Maybe I have been obsessed. Maybe I have confused my priorities.  
  
Max wants me to be real. She wants me to treat her like a person, to spend time with her and give her my attention. We had that before my surgery, but now I find it so difficult to do. There seems to be too much work lately. I find myself thinking that I only need one more hour, or two more hours, so I can crack a file, and then I can spend some time with Max. But the hours turn into days and I have barely spoken to her let alone seen her. I have only called her when there was work to do for one of my files or some detail I could pass on related to her siblings. Max didn't seem upset at the change. She seemed as willing as ever to go out into the field and she continued to call me every day. She even offered to cook for me a few times to give me a break. But I never seemed to have the time to accept her offers. There was always too much work to do.   
  
How am I going to fix this? I have so much to apologize for. I have to meet Matt in the park in a few minutes, but what I really want to do is call Max. Now I don't have the time. I've managed to put my work in our way once again. I have lost the connection that we had. It was so easy for a few days before the surgery. Then I let it slip away. She was the only good thing in my life and I pushed her away. God, do I miss her.  
  



	44. Fri Feb 7, 2020 - Rescue (Out)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Out, Red  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 44 - Friday February 7, 2020 - Rescue (Out, Red)  
Summary: Logan deals with the aftermath of his run-in with Bronck  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
  
Friday February 7, 2020  
  
For a while, I was able to turn my mind off everything and just go through the motions of life. As long as I kept moving, as long as I kept working, as long as I filled my mind with the thousands of details that needed to be taken care of each day, the feelings of desperation stayed in their place. It was better to be numb than to be out of control. It was better to function partially than not at all. So I focused increasingly on my work. If I could just focus on that one thing, maybe the rest of my miserable life would disappear. And it worked. Everything outside of my work became a burden, a waste of time. It took so much of my energy that I couldn't see anything around me any more, not even Max.   
  
Max was not willing to accept that from me. She accused me of only caring about strangers. She was right, of course. It was easier to think about the anonymous masses out there because the ones nearby took too much effort. It was easier to be aloof and remote. Strangers don't know that you don't really have anything to give them, that your soul is empty. You save their lives, you give them some cash, you provide a new identity, but you don't really give any of yourself. They don't know that you are screaming inside, a person just like them, desperate for escape. They can't see the anger and the despair in your heart. To them, you are just an eccentric idealist, an anonymous benefactor. Max, on the other hand, is no anonymous benefactor. Everything she does is personal. It's the people closest to her that she cares about most, Cindy, Kendra, Zack and me. She will risk her own safety to protect any one of us. She proved that again when she rescued Matt and I from the mess I put us in.   
  
I was so obsessed with bringing down Gerhardt Bronck I didn't even consider the possibility that Bronck could track us down, or how much danger I was subjecting Matt to. I sat there in that abandoned airplane hanger, confident that I was seeing the end of Eyes Only. I knew that, some day, this career that I have chosen would kill me. It was inevitable. Sometimes I even felt that sooner would be better than later. Then I would be finished with this life of mine. I was not surprised that the day had arrived. I was only sorry that I had put Matt into that position. I tried to deflect Bronck's attention from Matt onto myself, but Bronck didn't buy it. He realized that it didn't matter what he did to me, that my own life was not that important to me. But he knew that I would give him anything he wanted to prevent him from hurting Matt. In the end, I was powerless to protect Matt. If Max had not returned when she did, we would both have been dead. Max rescued me once again. She reached out her hand once again, and I grabbed onto it once again.   
  
It turns out that I was wrong about so many things. I was completely wrong about Bronck's operation. He wasn't stealing our city's blood he was stealing our lifeblood. How could we ever have hope for this city if our children aren't protected? I was also completely wrong about what I should have been doing. I was trying to hide from reality and bury all my frustrations in my work but all I succeeded in doing was putting all of us at risk. Now I realize that I can't avoid reality now matter how much I want to. Max asked me to be more open for her, so I have been. I have tried to show her that I appreciate her friendship. We had that missed dinner the next evening, and we have had many since then. But I was right when I jokingly told her the world would still be broken in the morning. It was. The world is still broken and so am I.   
  
In spite of everything Bling says, I will still be trapped in this half dead body of mine. Bling is still living in his dream world of visualization exercises and mind over matter. I told him once that my legs will never work again, but he cut me off. He is not willing to recognize the reality of my situation. What is he afraid of? The truth? I don't even bother to argue with him any more. I just turn my mind off and let him go through his little routine. It won't make a difference either way.  
  
Sometimes I wonder why Max bothered to rescue me. Why did she have to pull me back into reality? My reality has now come back to haunt me. The blackness that I had so effectively shut out for a few days has started to creep in again. I am trying so hard to fight it, but it is a losing battle. Max doesn't understand the price I'm paying to do this. She doesn't understand what I am fighting against. No one does. She comes by for dinner, chess and some light conversation. She makes me smile for a few minutes and then she breezes out of here as if she doesn't have a care in the world. I don't know how she can do it. How does she keep from getting buried under all the crap in her life? I can't do it.   
  
At least, I have one thing to look forward to. Mayor Steckler is finally up on indictment for his role in the cortodiazapine crisis. It's rumored that there is a witness that will guarantee his indictment. If that witness exists, and he is in the hands of witness protection, the probability is slim to none that he will stay alive to testify. After what they allowed to happen to Lauren, Peter and myself, I will never trust witness protection again. We will have to find this witness and make some alternative arrangements for his safety. I've already put some feelers out on the informant net. It appears that I will be spending this year dealing with the fallout of last year's catastrophes. Maybe I will be able to correct a few things, but sadly there are some things that can never be repaired.  
  
  



	45. Mon Feb 10, 2020 - Scream (Red)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Red  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 45 - Monday February 10, 2020 - Scream (Red)  
Summary: Logan and Max rescue Bruno Anselmo  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Monday February 10, 2020  
  
9:00 pm  
  
Money  
  
What else have I got?  
A body that works?  
A family that appreciates me?  
A wife who loves me?  
A world that wants me?  
  
Logan Cale  
  
  
  
The universe may be right on schedule but it has a cruel sense of humor. It turns out that the witness we are protecting from Mayor Steckler's people is none other than ...you guessed it!... Bruno Anselmo! ...my would-be assassin, the man who put me in this chair.  
  
If I had known it was him, I would never have asked Max to bring him here. But he came into my home. He sat on my furniture. He thought I would let him stay. He checked out my place, told me what cool digs I have, then he gave me a half-assed apology for trying to kill me. He said it wasn't personal. All liars, thieves and criminals say that. It's just business to them. But it is personal. When you invade a person's being, when you destroy their life, when you rip out their soul, it is personal. Of course it's personal. He said it could have been worse. No it couldn't. I wish he had killed me that day. I wish he had finished the job.   
  
I watched the video of the shooting about a thousand times, today, trying to figure out why he missed. I'm walking in that video, I'm running. It feels like it happened to somebody else, but that is definitely me. That was me walking. That was me WALKING! I remember the pain of the bullet ripping into my back. I can feel it now ripping through me. I remember trying to get up and not understanding why I couldn't. I remember wondering why my body wasn't responding. I remember fighting the blackness trying to hold on to Sophy. I remember fighting to stay awake. I remember fighting to stay alive. I wish I had given up then. I wish I hadn't fought so hard. I wish I understood what I would become. But I didn't give up. I never give up. I always keep on fighting. Of course I didn't die. I survived. I'm not dead and I have another battle to fight. And now Bruno has become one of my weapons. I am protecting him so he can testify against Mayor Steckler. I hate him, I want to kill him and I am protecting him.   
  
I asked Max to take Bruno to a safe-house because I knew he wouldn't survive the night here. He didn't know it, Max didn't know it, but I knew it. Max complained loudly about having to protect him. She can barely tolerate his presence. Well, there are also limits to what I can tolerate and I am way past my limit. I have been telling myself the same thing I told Max. I have to keep my eye on the bigger prize. I have to remember that. I will protect Bruno so that he can put Steckler away. We will get rid of Steckler. We will rid the world of one cancer. But I will still hate Bruno and Steckler and all the others like them. I will still hate them for what they did to me, for what they do to all of us. I will still be trapped in this chair. I will never have my life back.  
  
  
Bling said I should scream a little. Does he think that I don't scream, every morning, when I wake up in this broken body? Does he think that I don't scream every night when I drag myself from my chair onto the bed? Does he think that I don't scream, from the depths of my soul, every single time I push the wheels of this chair? Does he think that if I scream out loud that it will lessen the pain in my soul? Does he think that my silent screams will end?   
  
  
  
  
It's Not Personal  
  
You shoot me in the back  
And you say  
It's not personal  
  
You invade my soul  
And you say  
It's not personal  
  
You shred my peace  
And you say  
It's not personal  
  
You steal my security  
And you say  
It's not personal  
  
You destroy my life  
And you say  
  
It's not personal  
  
You leave me for dead  
And you say  
It's not personal  
  
Logan Cale  
  
  
  



	46. Tue Feb 11, 2020 - Red (Red)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Red  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 46 - Tuesday February 9, 2020- Red (Red)  
Summary: Logan and Max meet the Reds  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Tuesday February 9, 2020  
  
They're after Max. The answer to Sebastian's question is they're after Max. I have never had a thought scare me as much as that one did. We were out of Sebastian's and driving to the courthouse before Bling could even ask me what was going on. They weren't going after Bruno at all. They are after Max and she has no idea what she is up against.  
  
When I ordered the security tape from the hotel, I was just following up on Max's call. I was doing my job, trying to be thorough. It seemed that another group was looking to take out Bruno and we just wanted to know what we were dealing with. I never expected what I saw on that tape, nor what I Sebastian was about to tell me.   
  
South African disposables, Sebastian called them, otherwise known as the Red Series. An implant rewires their nervous system, blocking out their pain receptors, leaving them hyperadrenalized, fearless and essentially invincible. One of them punched his fist through an elevator door as if it were tissue paper. Their major flaw is that their bodies cannot handle their turbocharged state and they burn out in approximately six months. They have been trying to correct the problem by retrofitting their DNA with American transgenic technology.  
  
"Question is, what are they doing in Seattle?" Sebastian asked, having no clue as to why they were here.  
  
The street outside the courthouse was a security nightmare. They weren't letting anyone into the building, not even journalists. I had no way of getting to Max, no way of knowing she was okay. As Bling and I paced back and forth in front of the entrance, the situation seemed to be intensifying. Security was evacuating the building. Then, when Bruno came out of the courthouse parkade with a furtive look on his face and didn't even acknowledge me, I knew that I was right. Max was in deep trouble.  
  
If I thought I had been focused or obsessed in the past, I was wrong. I didn't understand the meaning of the words. If I thought that wheelchairs and car doors and steering wheels were obstacles, I was wrong. If I thought I needed twenty minutes or even two minutes to get into the car, I was wrong. I was behind the wheel and driving in less than twenty seconds. I didn't even bother to load the chair in the car. That was the least of my worries. I knew that the probability of both Max and I getting out of that parkade alive was slim at best. I also knew that nothing short of a bullet in my own head was going to stop me from trying to help Max.  
  
I have never functioned so instinctively or ferociously in my life. From the deepest part of my being, I knew what I had to do. No one was going to do to Max what Bruno had done to me. No one was going to touch her. All my pent up fury erupted at that moment. I had my gun out and was shooting before my brain even registered the circumstances. It was only after Max had dived into the car and we had pulled away that I realized that the only thing I had going for me was the element of surprise. If I had hesitated even a moment, Max would not have made it. Yet, even with my bullets inside them, the Reds were standing up and watching us race out of that parkade.  
  
I could feel Max shaking in the rear seat, but that was no seizure she was experiencing. It was pure terror. I glanced in the mirror and she was rocking herself with her arms wrapped around her knees, trying to calm the shaking. She looked up for a moment and her protective shield had disappeared. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable. Then she closed her eyes and held on as I drove us home.  
  
Bling called a few minutes later and I realized that I was shaking, too, as I fumbled to answer the phone and keep us on the road. I remember trying to focus on his voice, but barely registered what he was saying... lost chair... are we okay?...meet us in the parkade in five minutes. When I pulled into my parking stall, I was almost surprised to see Bling there. Why was he waiting and what was he doing with my chair? I couldn't believe how difficult it was to get out of the car. I didn't remember it being that hard when I got in. And why was Max leaning so heavily on Bling? Bling ushered us upstairs and escorted us into the living room. And then we just sat there in silence, completely stunned.  
  
Eventually, Max regained her composure and began to describe what happened. Her cocky façade was back up, but underneath it, I knew what happened was terrifyingly real. There were only three Reds, but they were overpoweringly strong. They threw her with such force into a car that it shattered the windshield. The nasty wounds on Max's face and shoulder were proof enough of that. They even used cattle prods on her. No matter what she did, she couldn't keep them down. They were relentless. I shot two of them with the intent to kill, but they bounced right back up again. They remind me of a ridiculous toy from my childhood. Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down. The Reds are a twisted, deadly version of that toy. No matter what you do to them, they get back up and come back at you.  
  
An hour later, I was patching Max's shoulder as we listened to the news reports of the none too premature demise of our friend, Bruno. Despite all her griping yesterday, about having to protect Bruno, Max is much more compassionate than I am. Bruno testified against Mayor Steckler so his daughter could point to the one good thing he did in his life. Then five minutes later, he sold Max to the Reds. A germ is always a germ. But that didn't faze Max. He showed a little consideration for his daughter, so she was almost ready to forgive him. I'm not. I don't give a shit about his petty atonement. It doesn't make up for a life of murder. It doesn't make up for what he did to me. I'm glad someone did me a favor and took him out. I'm glad he's dead.  
  
Hate, anger, terror, that's all there seems to be room for in this kick or be kicked in the ass world. I hate what my life has become. I hate the fact that it has degenerated into this. I have been kicked too often lately. Having Bruno in my home yesterday was the harshest kick of all. Now, Max has had her ass kicked as well. I am sick of being kicked. I don't need it to keep me real and neither does Max. We need to do some kicking of our own. But now we have to face the biggest threat to Max's security that we have yet encountered. I saw the look in Max's eyes when she was so desperately trying to get away from the Reds. Max was terrified. "You don't have to tell me to be scared," She said. "I'm already there."   
  
So am I Max.  
  
So am I.  



	47. Th Feb 13, 2020 - Vows (Art Attack)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Art Attack  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 47 - Thursday February 13, 2020 - Vows (Art Attack)  
Summary: Logan prepares for Bennett's wedding  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Thursday February 13, 2020  
  
Bennett and Marianne are exchanging wedding vows in two days. I 'm happy that Bennett has found someone that he can share his life with, but I don't relish what I will have to do as Bennett's best man. I will be placing myself back in the center of a world I have tried so hard to remove myself from. I want to do this for Bennett, but toasting the happy couple with Jonas and his crowd waiting to ridicule me is the last place I will want to be on Saturday. I've asked Max to meet me at the basketball court tomorrow. Hopefully, she will be willing to attend the wedding with me. I could use a little X5 attitude to get me through this thing.  
  
My parents are the two people I know that kept their wedding vows. They truly loved each other. When I was young, Mom told me about the locket that Dad had given her when I was born. She cherished it more than anything else in her life. I have always thought of that locket as a legacy of what could be possible in our lives.   
  
I still wish I could have had more time with Mom. I wish I had more time with both of them. Before she died, I spent hours with her in her hospital room, hoping against hope that they weren't the last hours we would ever spend together. But Mom knew she was going to die. She drifted in and out of consciousness, but each time she awoke she looked at me with great intensity in her eyes, as if she still had so much she wanted to tell me.  
  
"Logan, I have something for you." One morning, Mom gently took my hand in hers and placed a cool metal object in my palm. She closed my fingers around it and held my hand as she talked.  
  
"Logan, your father and I had many successes and failures in our lives, but I want you to know that you are our greatest success. You have become everything we dreamed for you when you were born. You have made our lives complete." I smiled when she said those things, trying to appear confident for her, but I didn't feel confident. How was I going to fulfill her expectations if she wasn't around to guide me? It was then that I realized that her locket was no longer around her neck.  
  
"Logan, this locket is yours now." She continued to hold my hand as she spoke. "I want you to have it to remember me by, to remember how much both your father and I loved you."  
  
"Don't say that, Mom. This is your locket. It always will be." I couldn't accept it. Not then. If I accepted it, I would have to acknowledge that she was going to die. Mom understood that I was not prepared to do that, so she just smiled at me reassuringly as I gently moved her hair and placed the locket back around her neck. She fingered the locket lovingly as she smiled at me. The smile remained on her face as she drifted back to sleep, one hand holding her locket, and the other wrapped around my fingers.  
  
Mom died anyway, twenty-four hours later.   
  
A few days after the funeral, I looked for the locket in Mom's jewelry box, but it wasn't there. Of course, Aunt Margo got to it first. She was wearing it proudly at the next 'family' function. She still wears it all the time, like some kind of medallion. I don't even know why she wanted it. She was never close to Mom. I lost so much the day Mom died, not only her locket, but also everything it stood for. That was the end of real love in my life. All I had left was Jonas and Margo. They have barely tolerated me all these years and are still embarrassed to be seen with me. Now, I have to go face them again.  
  
I have never been able to ask Aunt Margo for the locket. Give me an army of Red soldiers any day, but don't ask me to stand up to Aunt Margo. I may whine about it now, but I know I won't do anything about it at the wedding. Aunt Margo would just love to see me make a scene like some kind of spoiled child. The truth is, I won't do anything about it at any other time either. I am a thirty-one year old man, but I am such a coward.  
  
I don't know how I ever mustered up the courage to ask Valerie to marry me. Maybe it was more an act of foolishness than bravery. But we both thought we were being so daring, that we would be able to overcome our obstacles and make it work. I so desperately wanted to recreate what my parents had. They were brave enough to promise themselves to one another, and they kept their promise. I had seen a real marriage and I wanted to have one as well.  
  
Mom and Dad knew everything about each other. They didn't hide from one another, but trusted each other completely, even with those things that they wouldn't share with anyone else. When I would complain to Mom about the way Dad was, she would respond with a quiet 'I know', but all I could see in her eyes was her love for him. She had seen into the secret parts of Dad's soul and she loved him. She loved all of him.  
  
Valerie and I were never able to do that. She couldn't trust me with the part of herself she loathed. Instead she tried to kill it with alcohol. And I didn't trust her with the part of me that could be hurt. I never really opened myself up to her. I held it back from her, but she was still able to pierce me.   
  
Bennett is so lucky. The way he talks about Marianne, I believe they truly love and trust each other. He told me about what they have already overcome to get to this moment. They may have met accidentally, but they had to make a choice to come to this point. They chose to become partners. I hope that Bennett and Marianne find as much happiness and adventure in their marriage as my parents did.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A Toast to Bennett and Marianne  
  
Marriage is an act of daring, which requires that we be brave enough to promise ourselves to another. It requires we entrust our most secret inner selves to them. When Bennett first told me that he had fallen in love with Marianne, I told him he was lucky to have found someone to share his life with. They crossed paths by fate, but became partners by choice. And together, they are embarking on the greatest adventure two people can share.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  



	48. Fri Feb 14, 2020 - Date (Art Attack)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Art Attack  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 48 - Friday February 14, 2020 - Date (Art Attack)  
Summary: Logan asks Max to attend Bennett's wedding with him.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Friday February 14, 2020  
  
What an awesome day! I played the best basketball game in my life and I've even got the date of my dreams for Bennett's wedding!  
  
It began as a near disaster though. Even when Jonas is not around he can make me screw up. I had been looking forward to asking Max to go to the wedding with me but instead I made a last ditch attempt at backing out. All I succeeded in doing was hurting Max. Even though she had other plans, I could hear the hurt in her voice when she told me to have a good time. She thought I had changed my mind about asking her to be my date. That was absolutely not what I meant. I would never be embarrassed to have Max go anywhere with me. It was my family I was concerned about not her. Thank God I was somehow able to convey that to her. When I told Max my concerns she smiled. "Sounds like fun." She said. I don't know about fun but she did make me feel that it was an honor to be Bennett's best man. I just need to remember that, regardless of how nervous I am. She was even willing to change her plans so she could go with me. How lucky could I be?   
  
While she was at the court, Max caught the last few minutes of our game. She couldn't believe that we would 'kill ourselves' like that when there wasn't any money involved. She must have seen me bounce off the pole trying to make a basket, though that's nothing compared to what we regularly do to ourselves during a game. I have been out on that court every day this week. I can't get enough of it. I spent eight hours there on Wednesday trying to burn off some of the aggression I was carrying from our encounters with Bruno and the Reds. Bling was right, if I didn't do something I would have exploded. The game lasted only two hours, so I spent the remainder of the time running drills. After eight hours, my hands were so raw I could barely push the chair, but I didn't care. I wanted to be so exhausted that I couldn't think. I only went home when it became too dark to see the ball. If the city hadn't discontinued funding night lighting in parks years ago, I would have stayed longer still.  
  
I fully expected to be exhausted and sore on Thursday morning, but when I woke up I felt stronger than ever. This morning was the same. It seems that no matter how hard I work or how much I push myself, I can still do more. I've been playing basketball for months, but I have been doing things on the court recently that I never thought I could. I have strength and speed and accuracy. Even though I can't walk, I feel that in some ways my body can do more now than ever before. Even the atrophy in my legs appears to have stopped progressing. Today, I had a hard time cinching the strap around my thighs. It was almost as if it was too small. Could it be that the atrophy has not only stopped progressing but is reversing itself? How could that be even remotely possible? Whatever is happening, I appreciate this feeling of renewed strength. The truth is, the only time that I feel whole is when I'm playing ball. For once the chair isn't a barrier but a part of me. It responds to my lead and works with me. I can compete and just enjoy the pure physicality of it. Hey, I even made the winning basket today.   
  
And to top it all off, I've got the date of my dreams! It's almost like some kind of high school cliché. The nerd, or in today's case, the basketball star, asks the most beautiful girl in the school to the Valentine's dance and she says yes. Well, today is Valentine's Day and the 'dance' isn't until tomorrow, but it still reminds me of Valentine's Day when I was younger. I remember being a teenager nervously asking a girl to the school dance and always being surprised that she would want to go out with me. When I got older, I became much more cynical. I remember thinking, I've got the charm, I've got the cash. What more could a girl want? Now, I'm back to being a nervous high school kid again.  
  
The thing that stands out the most for me, though, is how Dad would treat Mom on Valentine's Day. For a manly man, he certainly made a big show of that day. He would buy Mom cards, flowers, chocolates, the works. He would call her his valentine and whisk her out the door for a romantic evening. I even tried to celebrate Valentine's Day with Val when we were first married, but I don't need to be reminded of what a disaster that was. Now, Valentines Day has fallen out of the nation's consciousness. Who can afford to buy cards and chocolates and all the paraphernalia associated with Valentines Day? I'm glad Bennett hasn't forgotten about Valentine's Day. I suspect he had something to do with scheduling the wedding on Valentine's Day weekend. When he talks about Marianne it reminds me of the way Dad used to look at Mom.  
  
I'm looking forward to pulling Max away from work for a few hours tomorrow. I think she will be amused to see how the other quarter of one percent lives. It won't be quite relaxing, but with Max around I think I might be able to survive this 'family' event. In any case, weddings, even a Cale wedding, do have a hopeful spirit about them. I could use a little hope in my life right now.  



	49. Sun Feb 16, 2020 - Everything in its Pla...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Art Attack  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 49 - Sunday February 16, 2020- Everything in its Place (Art Attack)  
Summary: The day after Bennett's wedding.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sunday February 16, 2020  
  
7:30 am  
  
For once in this crazy mixed up world, everything has fallen into place.  
  
Duvalier, our art thief friend, is in jail where he belongs, framed for a murder he did commit.  
  
Norman Rockwell's 'Outward Bound' is inward bound to a museum in America.  
  
Bennett and Marianne are happily married and enjoying their honeymoon.  
  
A certain bouquet ended up in unexpected hands. Now Daphne and Cindy are playing pool, putting my questions to rest once and for all.  
  
My mother's locket is back in my hands thanks to the nimble fingers and caring heart of a friend.  
  
Cinderella gets to keep her dress. It's only fitting for the most beautiful girl at the ball.  
  
And a seed of hope has found its way into my heart.  
  
In today's fairytale, the magic does not end at midnight, it continues until the dawn and beyond. Wonderful things are happening.   
  
I bumped my foot on the table leg a few minutes ago and it hurt. I couldn't believe it. For a moment, I thought that the 'Ow' escaped my mouth because I saw my foot hit and I subconsciously thought it should hurt. But I've bumped into things before and I never responded like that. So I tried it again, and there was no mistake. It definitely hurt. I felt something. I truly did. It's unbelievable. It's miraculous. But it's happening. And it's real.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
1:00 p.m.  
  
I am experiencing a miracle today but all I can think about is yesterday. I keep replaying the day in my head and each time Max is in the scene. On Friday I felt so lucky that she would want to go to the wedding with me, but I had no idea how lucky I was.   
  
There is something about putting on a tuxedo, tying a bow tie and having a beautiful girl at your side that is good for the ego. But Max is not just any beautiful girl, and I was completely unprepared for the gorgeous, elegant, woman that came walking towards me at Jam Pony. I could feel everyone's eyes on us. I could almost hear them questioning each other. Who is that guy? What kind of a hold does he have on Max that she would go out with him? I could have answered that. This beautiful woman is my date. I asked her out and she said yes. She wants to be with me. I wanted to show her off to the whole world. The way she looked at me, she made me think that she was as proud to be with me as I was to be with her. She made me feel handsome, wanted and absolutely attractive.   
  
Then on the way to the wedding, the cynic inside Max came out in full force. She ridiculed my speech and threatened to fence the wedding ring. She didn't even hesitate a moment to remind me of what a failure I was at keeping my own wedding vows. She stated flatly that she didn't think it was possible to promise to love another person forever. I thought she was doing it to bait me, but it turned out that 'Miss Weddings Are A Public Humiliation' was full of surprises all night.   
  
I settled Max in one of the chairs, then I worked my way to the front to try and keep a very nervous Bennett on his feet until Marianne arrived. I was immersed in my role, so I didn't get a chance to look at Max until the end of the ceremony. When Bennett was finally kissing his bride, I stole a glance at Max and she was crying. She smiled at me happily as she wiped the tears away. She didn't even bother to hide her emotions. Max crying at a wedding? I couldn't believe it. But now I know better. As the evening progressed, I learned that behind that tough military shell is one of the most sentimental people I know.  
  
Max even saved me from my near disaster of a toast. My fear of the Reds a few days ago was nothing compared to the fear that gripped my heart when I realized I had lost my notes. But somehow Max arrived in the nick of time and got me through it. Max continued to surprise me all night. I was completely shocked when she stepped out of nowhere to deflect the wedding bouquet into Cindy's arms. She continued our conversation as if nothing had happened, but I know her and that was definitely a calculated act. Why would she care about who caught the bouquet? Who did she think was going to catch it? Who did she block?  
  
  
Daphne?   
  
  
Why didn't she want Daphne to have it? Who did Max think Daphne would want to marry? Who was there that Max would even care about? Max didn't know anyone but me.  
  
  
Me?   
  
  
Max didn't want Daphne to marry me?   
  
  
Me?  
  
  
Well, I did spend most of the night talking to Daphne and ignoring Max. This morning, I apologized to Max for that, but now I think that maybe it was a smart move after all. I definitely like this jealous streak of Max's. Definitely. Despite the fact that I spent the whole evening talking to Daphne, I couldn't help but notice Max every time she walked into the room. She was breathtaking in that red dress. Still, like a complete idiot, I gave her such a hard time about the dress and where she got it. I even accused her of stealing it. Of course, this morning, I found out that she went to so much trouble to get the dress so that I would feel comfortable around my family. She wanted me to have a date that 'fit in'. For a genetically enhanced killing machine, she certainly has a lot of consideration for other people's feelings. Her methods may need some refining, but her heart is definitely in the right place. After the way I behaved, the least I could do was to buy her that dress. She deserves it. I can still see the beaming smile on her face when I told her how beautiful she was in it.  
  
Then Max handed my mother's locket back to me. That was the most thoughtful thing anyone could have done for me. I spent the evening essentially ignoring her while she spent the evening looking out for my needs. I may not have realized the full extent of it before, but Max has an amazingly compassionate heart.   
  
  
She sees the hole in his soul  
And reaches out  
With care and thoughtfulness  
And hands him his heart   
In a simple locket  
Filled with his parents' love  
  
  
Now, I think that Max's questions about how we could possibly promise to love another person forever weren't as flippant as I thought. Maybe she really wants to know. I still can't get my mind off her, standing there in her flowing red dress, mouthing the words of the toast along with me.   
  
"They met by fate, but became partners by choice."  
  
  
  
10:00 p.m.  
  
I wasn't mistaken about all the changes in my body. I am getting stronger. I am healing. I've been paying attention all day and a level of sensation is definitely returning to my legs. It seems to be developing in stages. First, I was able to feel pain. Then a few hours later, I felt the cold metal of the wheelchair against my leg. The sensation only lasted a few minutes, but it was there. Then it faded away again, only to return a couple of hours later. The pattern has been repeating all day. With each subsequent return, the range of sensations has been growing more complete, pain, cold, heat, even textures. It is all coming back.  
  
A few minutes ago, I moved my toe. It was a miniscule movement, but my brain sent the signal and my toe responded. Somehow that signal got through. It got through! Now the signal has faded again, but I am not concerned. It feels like my body is rewiring itself. It replaces a wire, does a test run, then turns off the circuit breakers for a few hours while it replaces a few more. With each test run the connections improve.   
  
I called Sam this afternoon to give him a heads up as to what is going on. We've set up an appointment for tomorrow morning to follow up. I can't wait to talk to him about this. Maybe there is some way we can help it along. Maybe we can speed up the process. I didn't think it was possible, but now I'm sure that I'm going to get out of this chair. I am going to walk again.  
  
  
  



	50. Mon Feb 17, 2020 - Intimate (Rising)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Rising  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 50 - Monday February 17, 2020 - Intimate (Rising)  
Summary: Max gives Logan a second transfusion.  
  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Monday February 17, 2020  
  
10:00 am  
  
I appreciate Sam. He is an excellent doctor and I respect his judgement. He has also been a good friend to me and truly wants me to be able to get out of this wheelchair. But what is happening right now is so far outside his realm of experience that he can't fathom it. I, on the other hand, can understand what is happening because I am living it. While Sam was talking about phantom sensations this morning, I could feel his hand cupping the heel of my foot. He has a firm and practiced grip. That was no phantom sensation. Then later, as I was trying to convince him that my imagination was not running away with me, I absentmindedly placed my hand on my leg. I have done that a thousand times before and felt nothing, but this time I felt the weight of my hand on my thigh. It was almost as if my leg itself was reassuring me that I am not imagining any of this. I can't begin to explain how I felt just knowing that my leg responded to that simple touch.  
  
Sam is right about one thing, though, spinal nerve damage doesn't just heal itself. There has to be a cause. What Sam doesn't realize is he has found that cause. The pluripotents that he discovered in my bloodstream did not just appear by themselves. They had a source, and that source was Max. Her blood must contain a surplus of stem cells, and she must have passed them on to me when she transfused me. It explains a lot of things. It explains how rapidly I healed after the surgery. It explains my reduced need for rest between workouts. It explains the reversal of the atrophy in my muscles and it definitely explains the return of sensory function in my legs. Max did this.  
  
  
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8:00 pm  
  
How do you define intimacy? At one time, I thought it meant a physical relationship. What other way could you get truly close to a person? Yet despite all my efforts, I have not had much success developing intimate relationships. Daphne was just one of many women that managed to keep their distance from me. The little fiasco with the dress that wouldn't unzip was just the beginning of a long string of aborted encounters. I had an excellent friendship with Daphne. We could talk about anything. She even agreed to marry me for goodness sake. So I couldn't understand why she didn't want to get physically close to me. Still, despite her hesitance, I was completely mystified when she dumped me a short while later. Now, ten years after the fact, I realize that a physical relationship was never what Daphne needed from me. She was looking for something else entirely and I had no clue. I learned nothing from Daphne because a few years later, I repeated it all with Valerie. We may have had a connection for a fleeting moment, but neither of us had the strength to nurture it. Instead, we almost destroyed ourselves along with our marriage.  
  
Something happened today, though, that has made me reevaluate my definition of intimacy. Could it be that it is much more than physical closeness? Could it be that it may not be physical at all? When I look back now, the two people I felt closest to were my parents. During the few cooking lessons I shared with Dad, we connected in a way I would never have imagined possible. I was able to see past the intimidating CEO and I got to know my father. The connection was even stronger with Mom. She always shared herself with me and made me feel that I didn't need to hide from her. She truly knew me and I knew her. I had forgotten how strong our connection was, but what happened today has brought all those memories flooding back. I felt that connection again and it was unmistakable.   
  
It began simply enough when I attempted to update Max on what was going on. She couldn't quite believe it either and had to test it for herself. A few minutes later, she had me sitting beside her on the sofa with one of my legs pulled across her lap. I couldn't move my leg, but I could feel everything Max was doing. I could feel Max's strong but gentle touch as she picked up my leg and placed it across her lap. I could feel the warmth of her legs underneath mine and I could feel the coolness of her hand on my foot. And I could definitely feel it when she tried to break my toe! Even Max was startled at my response. After that, she was convinced. It took her about thirty seconds to offer me a second transfusion.   
  
We were full of enthusiasm and anticipation as Max jerry rigged the transfusion kit from some I.V. tubing and needles that I had on hand. In my line of work, it pays to have a broad range of medical supplies in ready access, although I never expected to use them for this purpose. Max explained what we would be doing as she worked.  
  
"Standard donation is one unit of blood. It usually takes approximately ten minutes to donate. That's what you would give at your local blood bank."  
  
"I did it once, but couldn't bring myself to go back. I have this issue with needles." I smiled at Max nervously, knowing what we were about to do.  
  
"Well, you're not avoiding one tonight." Max eyed me with amusement before she continued. "One unit is not that much to give considering most people have eight to eleven units in their bodies. The only side effect is a little dizziness due to reduced blood sugar."  
  
"Hence the juice and cookies at the donor clinics." I offered.  
  
"You liked that part, did you?" Max smiled mischievously before she continued. "X5s can give as much as four or five units without any lasting effects. But with a donation of anything more than one unit you can pretty much expect significant dizziness and a temporary loss of consciousness due to a rapid reduction in blood volume. Recovery is fairly rapid though. We usually just require a few hours of rest until our blood volume builds up again. We'll give you two units tonight. I doubt that your body would be able to accept more. It should take about twenty minutes. If I lose consciousness, you will have to remove the needles at the appropriate time. Just turn off the valve in my arm, then release the tape and pull the needles out. About five minutes of direct pressure should stop any residual bleeding." Max rattled off the facts as I nervously nodded my assent.  
  
"Logan." Max stopped almost in mid sentence.  
  
"Yeah, Max?" I looked at her a little worried at what else she would have me do.  
  
"You can do this." she stated gently. But then she held out a needle and, for a split second, I thought it might not be worth it.   
  
"Logan, if you sit still for this, I promise I'll give you some juice and cookies later." Max looked at me as if she was talking to a small child. I was glad that she was finding so much amusement at my expense.  
  
"I'm going to hold you to that, Max." I countered with a straight face as I placed my arm on the table.  
  
After only a modest amount of stalling on my part, and a few more unwarranted comments about needles and wimps, Max successfully inserted the I.V. line in my arm. But even as she teased me, the intensity in her eyes confirmed that she knew nothing would have stopped me from going through with this. And then something changed. I suddenly realized the enormity of what Max was trying to do for me, and I couldn't kid around anymore. I wanted to thank her, but I couldn't find the words. All I could offer was a grateful smile. Max reassured me with a soft smile of her own as she opened the valve that would allow her blood to flow to me. We sat across from each other waiting for my body to accept her blood. Our arms were barely touching, but our connection was deep and intimate. We didn't need to say a word.   
  
After about twelve minutes, Max laid her head down in her arms as she began drifting off. Despite what she had explained, it still worried me and I couldn't help checking on her.   
  
"You okay?" I asked softly.  
  
"Yeah -- just a little dizzy." Max's voice was quiet, far away.  
  
"Wanna stop?"  
  
"No. Don't let go."   
  
"I won't." I took her hand in mine, reassuring her that I wouldn't let go of her.  
  
"Promise?" I vaguely remember Max asking me that once before.  
  
"I promise." I had the distinct feeling that Max was talking about something much more important than a simple transfusion, and I instinctively knew that we both needed to hear that answer. I continued to hold Max's hand as she transfused me. At twenty minutes, I removed the needles as Max had directed.  
  
"Max. It's time to wake up now." I gently stroked her hair as I coaxed her awake.   
  
"Max. We're done." She smiled at me happily when I took her hand and guided her to the sofa.   
  
"I owe you cookies, Logan," she mumbled, giving me another tired smile as she lay down and drifted into a truly restful sleep.   
  
I've been watching her sleep for a few hours now as her body replenishes itself, and I am amazed at how beautiful she is. When I see her like this, she truly looks like an angel to me. Yesterday, I wrote that Max has an amazing ability to see my needs and try to fill them. I am grateful for everything she has brought into my life. Now she has done this for me and I know I can never repay her. She has given me more of herself than anyone other than my parents. I feel intensely close to her. As we sat there at the table looking into each other's eyes, something more than her blood passed between us. Max opened her heart to me today. She allowed me to see into her soul.  
  



	51. Tue, Feb 18, 2020 - Nothing (Rising)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Rising  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 51 - Tuesday February 18, 2020 - Nothing (Rising)  
Summary: Logan waits for the second transfusion to take effect.  
  
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Tuesday February 18, 2020  
  
8:00 pm  
  
This afternoon, I was filled with hope. I sat in my chair rocking back and forth willing, praying for my body to heal. I had taken my shoes off hours before. I wanted to feel the cool metal of the foot pedals and the harshness of the treads under my feet. And those sensations were there, clear and distinct. Then as the day progressed, they didn't diminish. They grew and sharpened and became even more distinct. My body was healing. I could feel it. I could feel Max's blood inside me. I knew it was working. I knew it from the depths of my being. I could even move my toes again. It was so easy. It was time. It was time to stand.  
  
I expected to struggle. I expected to stumble. I expected to fall. But I didn't expect nothing. But that was what I received. Nothing. No response at all. I could feel the table under me, I could even feel the floor under my knees, but I couldn't move. I couldn't control my legs. I couldn't control my body. I had nothing to grasp onto or to push against to help me get off the table. I couldn't even push myself onto the floor. I could barely move at all.   
  
How could my body lie to me? How could it make so many promises then renege on them? I exploded with fury and frustration, but my anger made no difference at all. I still couldn't move. I still had no control over my body. The anger disappeared as fast as it had appeared. And then I was praying again. No. No. No. Please don't tell me that this is it. Please don't tell me that I have nothing more to look forward to. Please. I buried my head in my arms and continued my silent pleading. In the end, I needed Bling to help me get back into my chair. I didn't have the strength to do it by myself. But that was the last thing I wanted. I didn't want another reminder of how little control I have. My life is like that. I may think that I have some control over what happens to me, but in truth, I have almost no control at all.  
  
My body was mocking me. It gave me a hint that something had changed, but nothing really has. I am trapped in my body and I am trapped in my world. Even Max's phone call a few minutes ago mocked me. "You must be out saving the world. Or maybe it's your bowling night." What a joke, 'out saving the world'. I don't go out. I stay in my impregnable tower and I watch other people live their lives. I play at saving the world. I play at having a life. But the truth is, I don't have a life. I have nothing. Maybe that is what I deserve. Nothing.  
  



	52. Th, Feb 20, 2020 - Rising (Rising)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'   
  
  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG   
  
Episode Reference: Rising  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None   
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com   
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 52 - Thursday February 20, 2020 - Rising (Rising)  
Summary: Logan deals with the aftermath of the second encounter with the Reds.  
  
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Thursday February 20, 2020   
  
7:00 am   
  
I remember Monday evening. I remember stroking Max's hair to wake her up and helping her from the dining room table to the sofa. I remember how weak she was because of the blood she had given me. I remember watching her sleep and thinking how beautiful she looked. I remember the beauty and peace of that evening. Last night, I did all those things again. I stroked her hair, I helped her up, I watched her sleep, but the circumstances were entirely different. Monday's peace was shattered and was replaced by horror and worry. I couldn't get the image of the blood pouring from her eyes out of my brain. And I couldn't erase the thought of the five thousand volts that I had just pumped into her head.   
  
All I could think is that we needed to get out her of there. That office reeked of death. Just being there increased my fear that we would lose her. My hand shook almost uncontrollably as I stroked Max's hair. I so desperately needed her to wake up. I needed to know that she would be okay. I found myself using the same words as I had the other night. Yet I could barely keep the terror out of my voice as I struggled to coax her awake.   
  
"Max. It's time to wake up now."   
  
  
"Max. We're done."   
  
  
"Max. It's time to go home."   
  
  
With each word, I pleaded with her to hear me. I pleaded for her to respond.   
When she finally did, I helped her sit up and I pulled her close to me, supporting her in my arms. As I held her, Cindy wordlessly retrieved my wheelchair. When Cindy returned, she gently helped Max stand up. On Monday, Max had walked happily, if a little unsteadily, from the table to the sofa. But last night, there was no happy but tired smile on her face. There was just fear and exhaustion. She leaned heavily into Cindy as they made their way out of that place. When we got home, Cindy helped Max onto the sofa, where she instantly fell asleep. I watched her sleep all night, but this time it was from worry not happiness. I have kept up a constant vigil, wary of every change, afraid that she would stop breathing or start seizing again. Max has been in a lot of dangerous situations before, but I have never been so concerned for her life. Then a few minutes ago, she stirred for the first time. She turned and snuggled into the cushions. That was the first real sign that she might be okay. Now I can breathe again.   
  
  
  
11:00 am  
When Max woke up, the first thing she asked about was Cindy. Despite everything that had happened, it was Cindy she was most concerned about. Max inserted that implant into her head so she could save Cindy. It didn't matter at all to her that she could have died. She had to save her friend. But I should not be surprised. Max is willing to risk everything to protect those she loves. She has proved that to me many times. Once Max was steady enough on her feet, she followed Cindy into the kitchen. I could hear them talking softly and crying together. When they came out a few minutes later, I knew that she had told Cindy the truth. Their friendship is much deeper and more powerful now than it has ever been. A short while later, they left for work as if last night had never happened. I would have thought that they had both earned a day off. But I think they both wanted to experience their normal routine again and put the horrific unreality of last night behind them.   
  
I, on the other hand, can't put last night behind me. I still can't get it out of my mind. When I arrived, the office was already a war zone. There was barely anything I could do to help Max. All remember was seeing a breaker switch and thinking that if I could provide her with a cover of darkness for even a few moments, it might give her some advantage. Now that I look back at it, I don't know how I managed to reach that switch. I remember throwing myself at it and grabbing onto anything to keep myself from landing on the floor along with my chair. That breaker switch was over six feet above the ground. I would have had to hold myself in a vertical position with only one arm to be able to reach it. Even with the adrenaline that was coursing through my body, I wouldn't have had the upper body strength to do that. And even if I did have the strength, there was nothing to hold onto at that height. There was no way I would have been able to reach it. I remember getting rocked by the blast as a grenade exploded, then hearing the sickening thump as Max landed against a piece of furniture. What I remember the most, though, was the panic I felt when I heard the safety click off a gun and a voice telling Max that he wanted the implant back. He was going to shoot her! The next thing I remember, the lights were off and I was flat on my stomach, yelling at Max to move.   
  
How...?   
  
Oh God!   
  
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1:00 pm   
  
I was able to reach the breaker switch because I used my legs to push myself into a vertical position. I moved my legs.   
  
I've spent the last two hours teaching myself to stand again. This time, I was smart enough to use the training table for support. I definitely didn't want to recreate Tuesday's fiasco. But today was no fiasco. Everything was different. I didn't need to use my arms to place my feet on the floor. I could move them of their own volition. The hardwood felt cold and firm under my feet, and when I slid forward in the chair, I could feel the cushion moving under my thighs. Then using the training table for stability, I pulled myself up. As I slowly transferred my weight from my upper body to my legs, I could feel them supporting me. I could feel my quads, hamstrings, gluts and calves straining to do the work that hadn't been requested of them in ten months. I could feel them shaking under the stress. After about ten seconds, my legs gave out and I sagged back into the wheelchair. Those were the most miraculous ten seconds of my life.   
  
Ten minutes later, I could feel the strength returning to my legs and I was ready for another attempt. I've repeated the process about a dozen times in the last two hours. With each attempt, I was able to place more weight on my legs and support myself longer. I can now stand up without using my arms at all. I even tried to take a step, but I didn't have the strength or balance to stand on one leg and lift the other off the floor. But that doesn't matter. I am on my way. Max is in for a surprise tonight. She will be the first to know.  
  



	53. Fri, Feb 21, 2020 - Fast (Rising)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Rising  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 53 - Friday February 21, 2020 - Fast (Rising)  
Summary: Max and Logan go for a bike ride.  
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Friday February 21, 2020  
  
4:00 am  
  
  
"I want to go fast." I challenged Max a few hours ago.  
  
"There's something I've been wanting to do with you ever since we met, and I think you might be up to it." Max responded with that dangerous glint in her eye that put a smile of anticipation on my face.  
  
"We're going for a ride." A slight smile played on her lips, but still didn't offer anything specific. I didn't take my eyes off her as her military mask came up in full force. Then I had a horrific thought. Max has a love for high places.   
  
"Look, Max. If you think I'm going to scale any tall..." I started to protest.  
  
"Uh, Uh." Her tone indicated that I was on the wrong track.  
  
"What?" I stopped to question her and she nodded in the direction of the living room. And there it stood in all its sleek, powerful, splendor, Max's Ninja.  
  
"I told you we were going for a ride." She couldn't hide her grin any longer as she pushed the bike out of the apartment. I quickly followed behind her, looking forward to this 'ride' that she had planned. When we arrived at the street, I propped myself up against the bike while Max stashed my chair in the car. I even attempted to climb on, but I wasn't able to swing my leg over the seat. There is a huge difference between standing on two legs with something there to support you and standing on one leg while attempting to raise the other three feet off the ground.  
  
"How are you doing over there?" Max commented on my lack of progress while she closed the hatch.  
  
"I feel like I'm balancing on the head of a needle with a ton of bricks tied to my legs. Otherwise, I'm doing great." I grinned at her, completely thrilled that I was even in a position to have this problem.  
  
"Slinging Bricks 101. Took that at Manticore." Max joked as she provided the extra boost that I needed to climb on. For once, I didn't have the slightest desire to protest her help. Nothing would have stopped me from getting on that bike. A moment later, Max was sliding on the bike in front of me and pulling my arms around her waist. I certainly had no reason to protest that either.  
  
Then we were moving fast! At first, I just held on as the wind blasted into my face, bringing tears to my eyes even with my glasses on. After a few minutes, my body adapted to the rhythm of the bike and to Max's responses. I found myself mimicking Max's every move as she leaned into a turn or anticipated a gear shift. We were completely united with each other and with the bike, and the sole purpose of our existence was going fast.  
  
About an hour later, we had worked our way to the waterfront. Max slowed down and pulled over at an empty pier. There was a quietness in the air that belied the port's daytime activity. Under the cover of darkness with only the lights from the boats anchored in the harbor and a few buildings downtown, the city seemed calmer, quieter, more at peace. The stillness of the place was in direct contrast to the speed and roar of the engine a few minutes before. Max silently slipped off the bike and I easily followed her. I slid partially off and then let gravity do the rest of the work. I leaned against the bike and Max joined me, standing barely an inch away.   
  
Only an hour earlier, I had stood up for Max. We were so incredibly close at that moment, not quite touching, but connecting in a miraculous way. With Max so close to me again, I felt like I was reliving the intensity of that moment. "You're the miracle. You gave me back my life." I remembered feeling that we needed to have our arms around each other. I remembered that, a moment later when my legs protested the long forgotten thing called work, we did. I remembered Max helping me back into the chair and stepping back a bit. We weren't touching anymore, but the connection was still there, stronger than ever. It endured all our bantering and our motorcycle ride and brought us to that pier. Then it was telling us that we needed to get closer again. Almost simultaneously, we placed our arms around each other's waists. We stood there for a long time, leaning into each other and watching the lights in the harbor. Our bodies were touching again and I could feel every contact point, our arms, our shoulders, ours hips and thighs and knees. It felt completely comfortable to be that close.   
  
"We shouldn't miss curfew." Max murmured, but she didn't make a move to pull away.  
  
"Yeah." I whispered, not making a move either.   
  
Eventually, Max stood up and walked to the edge of the pier. I could tell that she had keenly felt the change between us. It was something much more than just the fact that I was regaining the use of my legs. Then in a split second, Max's posture changed, as if she had just made a decision. She turned around and, before I knew it, I was plucking her bike keys out of the air.  
  
"Your turn." Max grinned at me with that wicked smile that I love. We repeated the balancing act to get me back on the bike. Then she climbed on behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. After a short but very intense lesson on acceleration, braking and shifting, she let me put the keys in the ignition. I gunned the engine and we surged forward. Racing through the dark city streets gave me an incredible feeling of power and freedom. Now I know why Max doesn't sleep at night. We spent another hour winding our way back to sector five. Then just as we neared the sector checkpoint, I turned the bike around and headed back the way we had come.   
  
"Uh, Logan? I know men are born with a road map of the country imprinted in their brains, but my place is in the other direction." Max's voice was amused but cautious.  
  
"No problem. I know where I'm going." I reassured her. Then I tried my best to get us completely lost. The night was far from over.  
  
Several hours later, I managed to find my way back to Max's. When she slipped off the bike, I made no move to follow her.  
  
"Logan, are you going to climb down some time before sunrise or do I have to peel you off that bike?" Max seemed extremely amused and maybe just a little nervous at my reluctance to get off. But the longer I sat there, the more nervous that look became. I think she was having waking nightmares of me taking off with her baby. I confess that, for a moment, I wondered if she would mind if I went for another short spin. But thoughts of being hunted down by an irate X5 allowed my better judgement to prevail. Surprisingly, even getting back into the wheelchair was not the letdown I thought it might be. I still haven't come down from the adrenaline high. When I told Max that I wanted to go fast all those hours ago, I hadn't realized just how fast we would go. But what thrills me more than anything is the anticipation of what tomorrow will bring. Because there is one thing that I am certain of. Tonight is only the beginning.  
  
  
  



	54. Sun, Feb 23. 2020 - Look Ma No Hands! (R...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
Author: a fan  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Rising  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
Chapter 54 - Sunday February 23, 2020 - Rising for Bling (Rising)  
Summary: Logan learns to walk again.  
  
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Sunday February 23, 2020  
  
On Friday morning, I repeated my demonstration for Bling.  
  
I felt like a child putting on a show for his parent. Look Ma! No Hands! I asked Bling to stand about three feet away from me, and warned him that under no circumstances was he allowed to move. I knew that he would be completely shocked. I hadn't breathed a hint of this to him even after he had to peel me off the table on Tuesday. After everything he has done for me, I have almost been more afraid of disappointing him than Max. I knew that the moment I would begin to slide out of my chair, he would want to try and catch me. Sure enough, I could see the nervousness in his eyes as I placed my feet on the floor and inched myself forward in my chair. Then I placed my hands on the wheels and with one push I was standing. I watched him closely as his expression changed from fear to shock and then to elation at the realization of what I had done.  
  
Bling has only known me in a wheelchair. When I stood up for him, I am sure that both of our dreams came true. I couldn't help the huge goofy grin on my face as I stood there looking at him. He was the one that never gave up on the hope of me regaining the use of my legs. He was the one that kept me physically strong. He was the one that helped me hang on to the threads of my sanity. I almost expected Bling to whoop and holler, but he responded in his usual reserved manner. He let me stand there for a few minutes just enjoying the moment. Then he was back to business.  
  
"I expect that somehow you are not quite satisfied just standing there. So let's get you walking." His tone was serious, but the light in his eyes betrayed his underlying joy. I continued to smile at him as I watched the grin grow on his face as well. He helped me back into he chair, and then picked up the phone to make a few calls. An hour later, he had rigged up some parallel bars in the middle of the living room.   
  
Whenever I imagined walking again, it had a dreamlike quality. I would stand up, push the chair away, take Max in my arms, and walk away. Friday was nothing like that. I had to work hard for every step that I took. Still, my progress was amazing. Bling knew exactly what to say to coach me along.  
  
"Logan, it's amazing, but in the last few weeks you have developed excellent muscle tone in your legs. That means we won't need to do any strength work to build up muscle mass. It is already there. We can focus on balance, coordination and endurance. Your biggest challenge today will be upper body fatigue, because you will be supporting a significant portion of your body weight with your arms while we re-train your legs. The key is to think about what you are doing and to be very exact until the motor patterns reestablish themselves. I think we can get you walking in twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Can you live with that?" Bling looked at me with another grin on his face.  
  
"Yeah!" I grinned back at him. "When do we start?"  
  
"Right now. Choose an end and stand yourself up." Bling nodded towards the bars. It took me about two seconds to comply. Bling stood between the bars about an arm's length in front of me as he began to coach me.  
  
"Logan, you've placed your feet about shoulder width apart, which is good. That will be our neutral standing position. How is your balance right now?"  
  
"Good. I could let go and I would be fine."  
  
"I want you to continue holding on for now. You will need the added support as we proceed. What I want you to do now is to bend your right knee and raise your leg so that your right heel lifts off the floor. Your weight will automatically shift to your left leg."  
  
"Whoa!" I was surprised by the difference that small change made. I could feel my left leg shaking under the additional weight.   
  
"Okay, now I know why you wanted me to hold on!" I acknowledged to Bling.  
  
"You're doing fine. You can lower your leg now." Bling gave me another encouraging smile. "When you are ready, try it with your left leg."  
  
As I repeated the action with my left leg I could feel my right leg shaking under the strain of the additional weight. I found myself using my arms to support a significant portion of the weight. Though I wasn't tired yet, I could tell that we were going to work hard. Bling asked me to repeat the exercise several times before insisting that we take a break, with a 'sit' that didn't leave room for argument.  
  
Ten minutes later, he allowed me to get back into position. Then we really went to work.  
  
"This time, Logan, we will take this a little further. Be prepared to use your arms for support while we do this. Place your hands a little further in front of you on the bars so that you are leaning forward slightly. When you are ready, I want you to bend your right knee just as you did before. But this time, raise your leg enough so that your foot clears the floor entirely. Now replace your foot a comfortable distance in front of you and shift your weight forward so it is over your right leg. Take as much weight onto your leg as you can." I focused all my energy as my legs strained to comply with Bling's instructions.  
  
"Good. You took your first step." Bling, the master of understatement, smiled slightly as he continued with the business at hand. "How are those arms holding out?"  
  
"Great!" He didn't even need to ask, considering what I had just done. There was no way I would have stopped at that point, even if I had been exhausted.  
  
"Okay. Lets keep going." Bling and I slowly worked our way along the bars, stopping after each step to reestablish my stability. About half an hour later, we made it to the other end. When Bling silently brought me the chair, I sat down gratefully. My legs felt thick, heavy and tired, but they also felt wonderful. I was completely elated at what we had just accomplished.  
  
I tried to focus on other things for a few minutes, but my eyes kept returning to those bars. An hour later, I had to try again. That time we were able to do two passes. We repeated the process a half a dozen times on Friday, and each time I was able to do more. By the end of the day, I was able to walk with a much more fluid gait. I couldn't believe how rapidly my body was adapting.  
  
At 10:00 pm, Bling shut me down. He reiterated another one of my favorites from the book of Blingisms. This time, it was the one about rest being as important as training. He even threatened to dismantle the bars if I even so much as looked at them for the remainder of the night. Well, I did sneak a few peeks while he wasn't looking, but I managed to exercise an amazing amount of restraint.  
  
Yesterday, Bling and I completed dozens of passes along the bars, and with each one my balance, coordination and endurance improved. Then this morning, I took my first tentative steps on my own. Bling asked Max to come over, and in his typical no nonsense way he put her right to work. He placed Max about an arm's length in front of me so she could spot me from the front while he spotted from behind. I will always remember the joy on Max's face as she watched me take those few steps.   
  
Since then, my progress has been exponential. Max left for Jam Pony a short while later, and Bling and I continued to work. He gave me a cane for some additional stability, and with that I have been able to freely move around the apartment. Tomorrow morning, I am going for a walk. I know that I am ready. I can't believe how much the world has opened up for me or how wonderful it appears. For the first time in years, I feel that anything is possible.  
  
  



	55. Mon Feb 24, 2020 - Poulet Chez Cale (Kid...

Disclaimer: I don't own em' Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PG Episode Reference: The Kidz are Aiight 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: None Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me. 

Chapter 55 - Monday February 24, 2020 - Anything is Possible (The Kidz are Aiight) 

Summary: Logan prepares for dinner with Max. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- 

Monday February 24, 2020 

9:00 am 

I walked to the waterfront this morning. I left the wheelchair behind and just walked out my door. I never understood before how freeing an act just stepping off a curb and walking across a street could be. I had walked along those streets to the waterfront many times in the past, but today everything was new. The world looked so different to me. When I reached the beach, I slipped off my shoes and made my way to the water's edge, reveling in the grittiness of the sand under my feet. From that littered, polluted beach, I could see the pier where Max and I stood on Thursday night, and I realized why I had come back there. I wanted to revisit that miraculous place that we had shared Thursday night. I remembered how wonderful the world appeared then, but it was even more beautiful this morning. On Thursday, it was a world full of promise. Now the promises have been fulfilled. 

Max arrived a few minutes later. She instinctively knew exactly where to find me. She brought me news of a fresh chicken at home and elicited a promise from me for Poulet Chez Cale for dinner. I tried to tell her how the world had changed for me, but I didn't need to say much. I could tell from her eyes that she knew. I couldn't quite convince her, though, to walk with me in the water. She doesn't quite understand the miracle of cold water lapping over your feet, or what a wonderful sensation it is to feel a shiver work its way up your legs. She doesn't understand the wonder of goose-bumps on your skin. I wasn't going to let her miss out on this, so I just used the conveniently placed hook on my cane to bring her close to me. Max slipped into my arms so easily, forgetting about the freezing water around her ankles. That was the closest we have ever been, with our arms so comfortably wrapped around each other. We were back in that place, perfectly connected. 

Tonight is going to be beautiful. Max will come over. We will drink our wine. We will eat. We will be together. I don't know what I will say to her, but it doesn't matter. We have a connection now and it is the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. I have never felt like this before. My life is full of sensations, the sand under my feet, the warmth of Max in my arms and the freezing water around my ankles. I can feel everything. I can do anything. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- 

7:00 pm 

"Things are different now, ff you know what I mean." Bling said then he didn't stop dogging me all afternoon. 

Well, I don't know what he means, and I told him as much. But he wouldn't leave it alone. He wouldn't even give me the space to choose a shirt for tonight. And that was only the beginning. How was I supposed to cook with Bling in the background talking about how it's a whole new ball game? Then he called me a nervous wreck. It's a miracle that I didn't slice my finger off listening to him. Who wouldn't be nervous around him? 

I have been looking forward to having Max over all day. I remember the spark of anticipation in her eyes when we confirmed our dinner date this morning. She couldn't wait for this evening and neither can I. I have no reason to be nervous. But Bling hasn't helped things at all with his not so well placed comments. The gun is loaded. What is that supposed to mean? What does he expect to happen between Max and I? We have a special connection and a wonderful friendship. Why would I want to do anything to jeopardize that? But Bling continued to insist that things were different now. He stirred everything up and then he left. He left with that `Logan's got a date look' still plastered all over his face. He actually left so we could be `alone'. I can't believe him! We are just having dinner. We have dinner all the time. What is so different about that? I should have no reason to be nervous. 

Max will be here shortly and I am surprised at how much I am anticipating her visit. It is just a dinner after all. But I have to admit that now that Max is almost here, I am feeling a little nervous. 

Don't I have a right to be a little nervous? Especially now that anything and everything is possible. 


	56. Tue Feb 25, 2020 - What do you say? (Kid...

Disclaimer: I don't own em' Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PG Episode Reference: The Kids are Alright 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: None Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at [1]afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me. 

Chapter 56 - Tuesday February 25, 2020 - What do you say? (The Kidz are Aiight) 

---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- 

Tuesday February 25, 2020 

What do you say when the most beautiful woman in the world is standing in your doorway and you are standing in front of her, not sitting, standing, and you know this woman made this miracle possible for you? What do you say when you are sitting beside her with a glass of wine in your hand and your heart is overflowing? 

What do you say to the woman you held in your arms only a few hours earlier, when the world became a beautiful place once again? What do you say when all you want to do is pull her back into your arms? What do you say when you are too nervous to touch her? 

What do you say to the woman that made your dreams come true, the woman that brought miracles into your life? What do say to the person you care the most about in this world? 

What do you say when the call you dreaded comes in and your world collapses once again? What do you say when you hear his name, Zack? What do you say when she leaves you to help the person you care least about in this world? What do you say when you know she is going to risk her life for him the same way she risked her life for you? What do you say when you know she cares for him as much as she cares for you, if not more? 

What do you say when you know she will do what she wants to do, what she needs to do, no matter what you say? What do say when you know that nothing you can say will stop her? What do you say when you are powerless to protect her? 

What do you say when you haven't heard from her twelve hours later? What do you say when you may never see her again? What do you say when you don't know if she is dead or alive? 

References 

1. mailto:afanofda@yahoo.com 


	57. Tue Feb 25, 2020 - Warnings (Kidz)

Disclaimer: I don't own em' Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PG Episode Reference: The Kidz are Aiight 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: None Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at [1]afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me. 

Chapter 57 - Tuesday February 25, 2020 - Warning Signs (The Kidz are Aiight) 

---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- 

Tuesday February 25, 2020 

8:00 pm 

Thank God, she is alive. Thank God. 

Max somehow managed to get through the Manticore dragnet and get Zack out. They returned here together. Sometimes it seems that this apartment is the only secure place Max and Zack have in this world. But they showed no sense of security when they walked in here. There was only fear and worry. I saw the same desperation that was so evident when they lost Brin returning to their eyes. 

Lydecker let Zack escape. He designed the escape so that Zack would reveal the positions of the other X5s, and he succeeded. Max and Zack were desperate to warn the X5s, but Zack couldn't remember their contact details. I could hear the panic in his voice as he tried to dredge up any small piece of information that might help. I could also hear it in Max's voice as she struggled to coax something out of him. She couldn't stop pushing him, but the memories were just not there. 

The fear and worry that I felt this morning are still so fresh in my mind. I can't let Max go through this without doing something. I can't allow five of her brothers and sisters to be captured. So I have done the only thing that I could. I have made a broadcast. Eyes Only has now allied himself with the X5s, and has made himself a target like never before. I jokingly told Max that things were getting too quiet around here, but I understand the consequences of what I have done. I have made an enemy that has the resources to find me. This will come back someday. I don't know when, but it will. 

At least the broadcast has worked. Zane, Syl and Krit have checked in and are on the move. They will be okay. Only Tinga and Jondy remain. Now all we can do is sit and wait for them to report. 

That's probably a good thing because I'm not sure how much else I will be able to do tonight. The muscle spasms that I experienced this morning really scared me. Since then, I haven't been able to shake the fatigue from my legs. It reminds me of the muscle aches I get when I work out too intensely, but this time it feels much deeper. I probably shouldn't be surprised after I spent last night pacing in front of the window worrying about Max. The spasm lasted only thirty seconds, but it left me feeling shaky and unstable. It was definitely a sign that I needed to slow down. I was reluctant to pick up the cane again, but under the circumstances, I didn't really have a choice. Now I am glad I did. I don't quite have the freedom of movement that I enjoyed yesterday, but with the cane, I seem to be doing okay. It has given me the additional stability that I seem to need right now. I suppose I can accept having the cane in my life for a few more days. 

References 

1. mailto:afanofda@yahoo.com 


	58. Wed Feb 26, 2020 - Last Chance (Kidz)

Disclaimer: I don't own em' Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PG Episode Reference: The Kidz are Aiight 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: None Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at [1]afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me. 

Chapter 58 - Wednesday February 26, 2020 - Last Chance (The Kidz are Aiight) 

---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------- 

Wednesday February 26, 2020 

6:00 am 

Go away. I don't want you. I didn't need to say those words. All I needed to say was `You can take it with you if you want' and Max understood. She was out of here in thirty seconds. I know I hurt her, but I don't care. She didn't need to see me the way I was a few hours ago, and I hope she never does. What she felt this morning when we returned from Portland is nothing compared to what she will feel when she realizes that we have failed. I cannot bear to see the look in her eyes when she does find out. I have to do something to prevent it. All I know at this moment, is that Max can't help me. We have already proven that. I have to do this by myself. 

When I had my first leg spasm yesterday, I thought it was just a result of exhaustion and overuse. I had been pacing the apartment all night worrying about Max, so I thought my body was just forcing me to sit down for a few minutes. I remember looking at my cane as if it was my enemy. I had set it aside for a few hours and I didn't want to pick it up again. But now I won't go anywhere without it. It is the only thing that is keeping me standing. 

The second failure this morning was much worse than the first. I completely lost all feeling in my legs. They didn't respond at all. I don't know how I managed to keep myself vertical until Max left or how I managed to sit down. Then I just sat there, trapped, for almost an hour until some function returned to my legs. I was a paraplegic again for that hour and it was the most horrific hour of my life. What is worse is that I know it will happen again. It is only a matter of time. When sensation eventually returned to my legs I felt like someone was cutting through my nerves. The pain was unbelievably intense. Then when I attempted to get up, I felt like they had. Standing up was much more difficult than before, almost as if I had just lost half my strength. I needed to support myself on the furniture to maintain my balance. And the ease with which I had been walking instantly disappeared. I have not regained my balance or my strength. On the contrary, things have continued to deteriorate. Just placing one foot in front of the other has become a painful chore, and with each step the pain in my back has been intensifying. It feels like my spinal cord is systematically dismantling itself. I am afraid to sit down because I don't know if I will be able to get up again. I don't know when my legs will shut down for good. 

My miracle lasted for five days. I know that if I do nothing, I will be back in that wheelchair by the end of the week. I am certain of that. But I will never go back to that life. Not ever. I was such a fool to think that I could solve all the world's problems when I can't even solve my own. If I don't find a solution, I know what I need to do. I already know how I will do it. I have known for a long time. 

There must be someone out there who can prevent this, someone with training in motor function research or stem cell function. Maybe an ex-Manticore researcher, anyone. Sebastian has forwarded a list of underground practitioners with experience in motor function research, which I am cross-referencing against the Manticore staff database that I developed for Max. There must be a lead somewhere. There has to be. I don't care if I have to cross the continent to find someone who can help me. I don't care if I have to abandon my work or sell my apartment or even sell every last painting that my mother left me. I don't care what it costs. I will do anything to prevent myself from landing in that chair again. This is my last chance. 

Joshua Brockville - Stem Cell Research - Manticore - Deceased 

Francine Dupre - Motor function unit - Manticore - Deceased 

Manuel Garcia - Motor function unit - Manticore - Deceased 

Yoshi Hakimodo - Neurology - Tokyo University 

Stan MacDonald - Osteoregeneration - Manticore - Deceased 

Susana Nacario - Stem Cell Research - University of Madrid 

Leopold Payson - Motor function unit - Manticore - Deceased 

Earnest Stutsman - Neurology - Manticore - Deceased 

John Thompson - Neurology - Manticore - Deceased 

Deceased, deceased, deceased, deceased. Over a dozen deceased. It appears that someone is systematically eliminating the Manticore brain trust. 

Adriana Vertes - Osteoregeneration/Neurology - Manticore - Seatt... 

Oh God! There's one here in Seattle. 

References 

1. mailto:afanofda@yahoo.com 


	59. Sat, Feb 29, 2020 - Numbness (Female Tro...

Disclaimer: I don't own em' 

Disclaimer: I don't own em'Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PGEpisode Reference: Female Trouble 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: NoneFeed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna you really made this chapter possible. Thanks for encouraging me to find the inspiration that this chapter needed. 

Chapter 59- Saturday February 29, 2020 - Numbness (Female Trouble) 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Saturday February 29, 2020 

Dr. Vertes is dead, and so are my hopes of ever walking again. So are all my hopes for my life. I should be dead, too. 

The last few days, I was completely focused on the single-minded pursuit of staying vertical. Even as my strength continued to deteriorate, I refused to sit down. I struggled to stay standing and to continue walking while the numbness radiated down my legs. At times, I could barely feel my feet. I had to concentrate on every step. Any minor distraction precipitated a fall. A crack in the sidewalk became an accident waiting to happen. A curb became a cliff. It required all my strength and determination just to step into the street. In those few days, I fell so many times. Still I refused to use my cane in the apartment. Near the end, I was almost courting the falls. At least the pain as I hit the ground could break through the growing numbness in my lower body. Now I wish I could still trip and fall. I wish I could still struggle off a curb. I wish I could still feel pain. But that is all over. 

For a moment, though, it appeared that I had found a solution. I had found my Manticore doctor. She understood the effects of stem cell enriched blood and she knew how to deal with the consequences of rejection. She had even achieved results in the past. All my hopes were pinned on her. She was my one and only chance. 

Then Max informed me that an X5 assassin had attempted to kill my doctor. I could feel the panic rising within me at that news, and my body justified that panic. I fell flat on my face in front of Max. I couldn't even feel my knees as they hit they ground. I couldn't feel anything in my legs. I insisted that I could do it myself, hoping, praying that I had sufficient feeling left to get up. But it took Max's strength to get me into the chair. So I attacked her. She looked like she was ready to kill me at that moment, but instead she flung my jacket at me and took me to Dr. Vertes. Now I wish she had killed me. 

I tried to apologize in the car. It wasn't her problem. It wasn't her fault. It was mine. I tried to explain my situation to her, but I knew she would never be able to understand what I was feeling. By the time we had arrived at the safe house, my anger dissipated. The only thing that remained was my fear and desperation. 

"Please, leave it." I pled softly when Max began to reach for the wheelchair. I knew that if Vertes' treatment didn't work, it would probably be the last time I would ever walk. 

Max looked at me with such sorrow. I could see her heart was breaking. She placed her arm around my waist and supported most of my weight as she helped me out of the car. Somehow, I was able to send some signals to my legs and take a few steps. I leaned on her heavily as we struggled into the building. Max led me directly to a chair and helped me to sit down. I no longer had the strength to stand on my own. Then I caught another glimpse of the pain in her eyes before she turned to question Dr.Vertes. 

When Dr. Vertes threatened to leave, my panic just grew. I couldn't comprehend that possibility. She couldn't just abandon me. I sat there clutching my cane as my life continued to spin out of control. I can't describe the relief that I felt when Max convinced her to return to her clinic. Max hated that woman. She would have preferred her dead, but she protected her to help me. Max's feelings barely registered with me at that point. All I was concerned about was walking. But of course, things continued to deteriorate. Within a few hours that X5, Jace, had returned and we were all caught in a tangled mess. Suddenly, Vertes and Max were protecting Jace. I couldn't believe the risks they were both taking. 

At least Dr. Vertes continued to treat me. I endured needles and pain, but the first several treatments showed no results at all. Then we suddenly made some progress. I was able to push the pedals on Vertes' ergonometer a fraction of an inch. My efforts actually registered on her monitor as a minor blip. But at least there was a blip where before there was nothing at all. `You're on your way back' were her exact words. For the first time in days, I smiled. I had a reason to hope again. 

I never expected Vertes to put herself in Lydecker's hands. I never expected her to be that stupid. Yet when Max told me that Vertes had been killed and my hopes of walking disappeared with her, I barely reacted. All the pain and sorrow and frustration disappeared and were replaced by a perfect numbness that took over my body and my soul. I couldn't feel my legs anymore. I couldn't feel anything. I remember talking to Max, but not really being present. 

"Not the best news I could have gotten," I calmly said to her. I remember thinking that I should be reacting more, but knowing that there was no reason to. My life was already over. It was just a matter of time. Nothing that I could have said would have made a difference. I remember Max trying to reassure me, and me giving her all the pat answers. 

"Logan, this is going to be okay." 

"Yeah." 

"See you later." 

"Yeah. See you later." 

I took care of a couple of pieces of business with Max and sent her on her way. Then I dragged my half-dead body into my chair one final time and pushed myself to my desk to retrieve my gun. Yet despite everything, the survivor in me insisted on searching for one final sign of hope. I've got a massive bruise on my thigh where I repeatedly hit my leg against the table, searching for any sign of sensation, but knowing that none would come. In the end, I only succeeded in proving to myself what I had to do. It's amazing the damage you can do to yourself when you turn off your mind. It's so easy to pull out a gun and load a bullet. It's so easy to take your own life when you are numb, when your legs are numb, when your mind is numb, when your soul is numb. 

Then a call came in for one last job for Eyes Only. Water dripping from the ceiling. Can't leave it alone. Have to find out the cause. It's coming from Mrs. Moreno's suite. Is she okay? Better make sure. I can always do this later. How ironic. Saved by Eyes Only. 

"Maybe it would be better if I just died." That sounded so absurd coming from Mrs. Moreno. Of course, there was no reason why she should die. She didn't need to talk like that or think like that. She just needed someone to put a hand on her shoulder and comfort her. So I spoke to her gently, reassuring her that she would be okay, telling her she didn't need to say those things. As I heard myself say those words, something pierced through the numbness that had enveloped me, and I caught a glimpse of the illogic of what I had been thinking. Why did those words sound so absurd coming from Mrs. Moreno when they seemed perfectly appropriate for me? How could she say that I had everything to live for? Didn't she see that I was back in the wheelchair? Didn't she notice it? 

I put Mrs. Moreno safely in the hands of the paramedics, then I returned downstairs. But I couldn't stop replaying her words. How could she say those things about me? I had barely reentered my apartment when Max rushed towards me, desperately wrapping her arms around me. I had forgotten about Max. I had forgotten about everything except what I had to do. I remember wondering for a moment what she was doing there. Then the realization hit. She knew. I could hear the fear and the worry in her voice. I wouldn't want to hurt her for the world, but I put that fear in her voice. I pulled her closer to me then, trying to reassure her that I would be okay. But I knew that a simple embrace would not be enough, so I released my hold and I did the only thing I could do. I put the gun away. At that moment, it wasn't about me anymore. It was about Max. That act was my unspoken commitment to Max that I would find my way through this. 

So I'm not dead. But I realize now that my feelings will not go away that easily. I succeeded in cutting through the numbness, but all the pain and frustration have returned. I still want to die. I so desperately want to end this life of mine. At this moment, I doubt that my commitment to Max will be strong enough to keep me alive. It may be enough to get me through tonight, but I don't know if it will be enough to get me through tomorrow, or the next day. I can't do this by myself. I need someone to comfort me, too. For the few moments that Max had her arms around me, I allowed myself to feel her warmth. But I pulled away too soon. I wish I had held on much longer. I wish I had said more. I wish I had asked her to stay. I need so much more. I would give so much to have her arms around me once again, to feel her warmth and caring, to feel her human touch. I so desperately need to feel a human touch right now. I so desperately need someone to hold onto me and help me through this. But I don't have the courage to call Max and ask her to come back. I don't even have the courage to talk to Bling, and he's just in the next room. I'm so desperate for something to change, but I don't know how I can make that happen. I doubt that I will find the "everything to live for" that Mrs. Moreno is so sure that I have. The blackness still envelops me. My legs still don't work. I still hate my life. But I've made one decision. I won't kill myself…at least not tonight. 

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 -->


	60. Sun, Mar 1, 2020 - Fighting for Life (Fe...

Disclaimer: I don't own em' 

Disclaimer: I don't own em'Title: Cale Diaries 

Author: a fan 

Rating: PGEpisode Reference: Female Trouble 

Spoilers: All first season episodes 

Fic Reference: NoneFeed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com 

Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me. 

Chapter 60 - Sunday March 1, 2020 - Fighting for life (Female Trouble) 

Sunday March 1, 2020 

Today, I did the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. It was much harder than shooting myself would ever have been. Today, I chose to tell someone about what I have been feeling. When the day began, I didn't quite realize what I was about to do, but now as I look back at the last twelve hours, I know that the survivor in me was fighting for my life. Today, I chose to live. 

I went back to the basketball court this morning. I haven't been back there since the day before Bennett's wedding. The moment I got a hint that I might walk again, I forgot about those guys. I didn't return their calls. I didn't go by the court. I turned my back on them. I did everything I could to make that part of my life disappear. I remember how hopeful I felt that day on the court, but all my dreams have since been shattered. I felt like such a failure going back today, as if just being there was an admission that I would never walk again. 

I hung back near the park gate, watching the game for a few minutes. All the regulars were there as usual, Jack, Derek and George, oblivious to the cold wind whipping at them, or the disaster of a park they were playing in. I hadn't noticed it before, but I was shocked at the grayness and bleakness of the place. The wind was blowing the remnants of last year's leaves, along with the always-present trash, across the dead brown grass. The basketball hoops were barely standing and the nets were tattered. The benches needed a coat of paint, but in truth, that would only serve to hide the underlying rot. Everything was cold and uninviting. I didn't know what they were doing there or what I was doing there. I didn't feel like a part of them any more after cutting myself off like I did. I definitely wasn't prepared to play. I wasn't even sure why I went back there or what I expected to find. I was turning to leave when I heard Jack's voice behind me. 

"Hey Logan! Hold up!" 

"Hey Jack." I smiled at him, but couldn't quite hide the tiredness in my voice. 

"We've missed you, man. When you didn't return our calls I thought you'd moved or died or something." Jack chided good-naturedly, but I couldn't help wincing at his comment. 

"You okay, man?" Jack instantly dropped his joking tone. He is nothing if not perceptive. 

"Yeah. I've just been swamped with work." One lie was as good as another. I found my gaze drifting back to the basketball court, looking for anything to focus on other than Jack's question. 

"I understand. The economic situation doesn't make things any easier. What do you do by the way?" Jack easily slipped into a conversational tone. 

"I'm a journalist." I answered him absentmindedly. Then I just sat there silently watching the game. I couldn't understand how any of those guys on that court were making it. How did they survive? Why hadn't Jack died years ago? But Jack just sat there not offering me any answers. Why wasn't he saying anything? He always had something to say. What was he waiting for? Why wasn't he answering my questions? 

"How do you survive, man?" I asked quietly, not wanting to reveal how desperately I needed to know the answer to that question. 

"I've got a small corporate law practice. It's sufficient for my needs and gives me the time to play ball as well. Some of the other guys really struggle, though." Jack answered, picking up the conversation where we left off. 

"I know what you mean." But I really didn't. I wasn't sure why I was there, but it wasn't to shoot the breeze about the economic situation. I felt a sudden urge to get out of there. 

"Look, I've got to get going. It's been nice talking to you." I quickly shook Jack's hand and once again turned to leave. 

"You weren't asking about work." Jack's matter-of-fact statement stopped me in my tracks. 

"What do you mean?" I avoided his gaze not wanting to acknowledge to him or myself that I knew exactly what he meant. 

"When you asked how I survive." There was a definite tone of concern in Jack's voice. 

Maybe I had gone there looking for someone to talk to, someone that might understand. But now that he was asking, I didn't know what to say. What was I going to tell him? I almost killed myself yesterday. It's just a fluke that I'm here today. 

"Logan?" The tone of concern was still there. 

"Some things haven't turned out the way I expected. Now I'm not sure that I can live with the consequences." I kept my eyes fixed on the game at the other side of the park. I couldn't look at him. How did he expect me to be able to talk about this? 

"Logan, I'm going to ask you a difficult question, but please try to answer it honestly." There was a gentleness in his voice that scared me more than any aggressiveness could have. I knew exactly what the next question would be. 

"Okay." I don't usually share anything truly personal with anybody. But the survivor in me, fueled by my desperation, was able to force out this one word. 

"Have you been thinking of killing yourself?" Jack's question was gentle and direct, but shook me to the core. Yesterday, I promised Max that I would be okay. I even smiled at her. But Jack's question reinforced the fact, that despite what I promised Max, I wasn't okay. I was far from okay. Nothing had changed. My feelings hadn't changed. I felt as hopeless as ever. That loaded gun was still waiting in my desk. If I didn't want another day like yesterday, something had to change. If telling Jack would make the difference, I had to do it. 

I nodded almost imperceptibly, fighting the urge to bolt away from there. I wanted so badly to be able to share this with someone, but the actual process was almost unbearable. 

Jack didn't balk at my admission. He just waited, giving me time to respond. 

"Yesterday, I promised a friend I would be okay, and for a moment I was, but now I don't know how I will be able to keep that promise." I was finally able to look at him. 

"I understand." The gentleness was still in his voice, though I doubted that he truly understood. "Would you mind coming to my place for a few hours? I have something I would like to show you." 

I reluctantly nodded my assent. I didn't want to rely on this guy who I barely knew. What could he show me that would possibly help? Why was I letting him lead me like a child who didn't know what he was doing? But the survivor in me understood completely. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't have any answers. Maybe, just maybe, he did. 

We drove silently in his car to the outskirts of town and pulled into an old fashioned suburban subdivision. Twenty years ago, it would have been the epitome of suburban living, large ranch style houses, white picket fences. Now it was as run down as the rest of Seattle. The houses were run down and there were barely any remnants of the original white paint remaining on the battered gray fences. There was even a burned out shell of an automobile at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. But there was something different about this place that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Then I realized what it was. There was no garbage. The streets were clean. The sidewalks were clean. The yards were clean. Someone was taking care of this place. 

Jack pulled in front of one of the houses. Screaming kids were riding their bikes and skateboards down a ramp from the front stairs to the sidewalk. Jack laughed at the sight as we worked our way out of the car. 

"What do you think this is? A skate park?" He yelled at the kids as we rolled towards the ramp. "Get out of the way and let this old guy show you some tricks!" 

"Dad, we've seen enough of your tricks to last us a lifetime." One of the skateboarders yelled back. Jack just rolled his eyes as we made our way up the ramp and into the house. I laughed in spite of myself. 

"You've got a really good community going here." I commented as we worked our way in. In contrast to the outside, the interior of Jack's home was in excellent shape. I suspected that Jack and his neighbors intentionally maintained the run down facade to attract less attention. There was no reason to make themselves a target for the thousands of people that resorted to burglary to make a living, or the police that were known to conduct unexpected `searches' in more desirable neighborhoods. Jack's next comments confirmed that for me. 

"We work hard at it. The car you saw is a remnant of the New Year's riots. We lit it up to keep the looters away. It was pretty effective. No one came down here. They figured the street had already been trashed. Things still look pretty rough on the surface, but we do have a functioning neighborhood. There are a lot of good things happening at the grassroots level. It also helps to have some watchdogs out there with some clout. I definitely didn't vote for Allan Lans for police commissioner last fall. Neither did anyone else that I know of. Well, I didn't bring you here to talk about politics and government." He stopped talking and headed into his office. 

Jack opened up a filing cabinet and pulled out several pamphlets that he handed to me. I glanced at the title of one of them, `Suicide - A Permanent Solution to a Temporary Problem.' He must be kidding! 

"When I told you I understood, I was serious. These are mine." Jack responded to my look of incredulity. I looked more closely at them then and noticed that they were dog-eared and underlined. There were even comments scribbled in the margins. 

"I have read them hundreds of times. A few years ago, I was exactly where you are now. I felt completely alone. I didn't think I had anyone I could talk to, but somehow I found these. For a while, they were all I had, but they saved my life. Eventually, I realized I did have friends I could talk to, people that care deeply about me. I also realized that there was hope for me. I have a great life now. I'm just grateful that I survived long enough to see that it was possible. I keep these to remind me how valuable my life really is." Jack took back the pamphlets and placed them back in the filing cabinet, but he didn't take his eyes off me. I could tell that he was looking for a sign that I understood what he was saying. I could hear the earnestness in his voice as he talked. 

"Logan, I didn't show you these to patronize you. I know that there are no easy solutions. I know you may feel embarrassed, even ashamed, but following me here was very courageous. It was an act of faith and hope. As for myself, picking up those pamphlets was the most life-affirming act I ever committed. I just want you to know that there are resources out there for you. It doesn't matter how you do it. You can beat this thing. I can see that you have that strength inside you, otherwise you wouldn't have come to the park today. I think you are capable of great magnitudes of hope." 

Hope. 

My job is all about hope. It's all about giving hope to other people, to this city, to this country, to the world. I'm an expert at seeking hope for the world. But I couldn't do it for myself. Jack's words were so ironic because, at that moment, the only thing I could feel was the enormity of my own hopelessness and isolation. What I needed more than anything was for someone to reassure me that there was hope for me, to let me know that I wasn't alone. Yet I couldn't ask for Jack's help. I couldn't even look at him. I just kept my eyes fixed on my immobile legs, unable to express my desperation. I was only a few inches from a person that was trying to reach out to me, but I couldn't breach the chasm. 

Then out of nowhere, Jack placed his arm around my shoulder and breached the chasm for me. I hadn't even noticed that he had moved beside me. Despite my craving for human contact, Jack's touch came as a complete shock. I rarely allowed anyone except Max and Bling that close to me, not physically or emotionally. And since my legs started to fail, I had even pushed them away. It was easy with Bling. He was accustomed to giving me space. So in spite of the concern, which was so obvious in his eyes, he didn't push me or ask me any questions I wasn't prepared to answer. But with Max, it was different. The more concerned she became, the closer she tried to get, and the more I hurt her. The worst moment was when I fell in front of her. My body was screaming for a human touch, but I couldn't bear it when it came. I couldn't let her help me. I had to do it alone. And when Max didn't leave me alone, I lashed out at her with words that I knew would hurt her. Now Jack was reaching out to me, but my first instinct was to push him away as well. Yet despite my resistance, Jack held onto me with a fierce compassion and understanding. 

"You're not alone, Logan. You don't have to do this alone." I never expected the warmth of Jack's touch or the kindness of his words. I found myself grasping onto him, desperately needing the support he was offering me. 

"You can let it go now." 

I had cried for others before, but I had never cried for myself. I had never allowed myself to grieve. In Jack's gentle statement, I found the permission I needed to release the sorrow that was crushing me. It poured out in enormous waves from the depths of my soul. Jack held onto me and just accepted it all. Eventually, the waves of grief subsided, but Jack continued holding me, supporting me. We were two mangled men holding each other awkwardly across the barrier of our wheelchairs. But somehow, despite his disability, Jack was able to share his strength with me and in the process, he helped me to rediscover my own strength. When I pulled away, I was able to do so with a genuine smile of relief and gratitude. 

"Thanks for being there for me." I couldn't truly express my gratitude to Jack, but I had to say the words anyway. 

"Don't mention it, man." Jack returned my smile encouragingly. 

"Why did you stop me today?" I understood the precariousness of my situation. If Jack hadn't been there when he was, I may not have made it. 

"Logan, I've been concerned about you a long time. There was no way I was going to let you go anywhere today without talking to you. I've been through it and I know all the signs, the self-negating comments, the extreme sadness, the social withdrawal and the erratic behavior. You've been exhibiting them all." Jack proceeded to describe the things he had observed. 

"I'm not as effective at hiding things as I thought." I smiled ironically, thinking about all the things that I do hide. 

"No matter how hard you tried to cover it, I saw the intense sadness in your eyes. Things have been going from bad to worse for you for a long time. You've had a rapid physical recovery, but you haven't had the time to emotionally process what has happened to you. When I met you five months ago, you didn't even comprehend that you had a permanent injury. I saw the light in your eyes slowly go out as you came to that realization. It is one of the most devastating things that we have to come to terms with." I remember that I lived off Bling's faith and hope for months, and how devastated I felt when I began to realize that what Bling believed might not happen. 

"I'm not saying that we will be trapped in these chairs forever, but we need to be able to accept that possibility if we are going to survive long enough to change it. If we are ever going to get out of these chairs, we have to be around for it to happen." I hadn't told Jack what happened with Dr. Vertes, yet he understood me so well. I had never even considered the possibility that I might have to make more than one attempt at walking again, nor that I might have to wait for years for a valid treatment to present itself. I was sure that Dr. Vertes was my only hope and when she allowed herself to get killed, it nearly killed me as well. 

"You rarely joined us for our post game gripe sessions and when you did, you never talked about yourself. We were laying out all the crap in our lives, but I never heard you mention a single concern. Not once. You can't tell me, though, that you didn't have a thousand daily challenges that you could have used some help with. Your injury was the most recent of all. We were the ones with the experience. We should have been encouraging you." Jack was right about that as well. I found it almost impossible to admit my struggles. I was lucky that I had Bling to help me through many of them. 

"Your injury is more than enough for one person to have to deal with. But I have a feeling there is much more going on in your life. Two weeks ago, you really scared me. When you came onto the court on that Wednesday, there was more than just sadness in your eyes. There was anguish and ferocity. I could see that you were desperate to release some of it. When we finished playing, the desperation was still in your eyes. How long did you stay after the game?" 

"Six hours." I didn't have to add that it was barely enough to keep me from exploding. Jack was not surprised at all, as if my answer confirmed what he had already suspected. 

"Then by Friday, you seemed much more settled. I thought that maybe you came to some resolutions. And I figured that cute girl I saw waiting for you probably wasn't hurting either." I smiled at Jack's description of Max. That Friday and the following Saturday were the two most enjoyable days of my year. I had no prospect of walking at that point, but somehow I found a way to enjoy my life again. I had my work, I had basketball, and I had Max in my life in a big way. The fact that I was still in a wheelchair didn't negate these things. 

"But then you disappeared again and didn't even return my calls. That scared me more than anything." 

"I thought I had found some solutions. Then everything fell apart a few days ago." Now I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't regained feeling in my legs when I did. Somehow I don't think I would have been sitting at my desk yesterday, ready to put a bullet in my own head. But the moment I regained the feeling in my legs, I couldn't accept anything but walking again. 

Jack and I talked about what could have pushed me to this point, and as he went through the list of possible causes, I almost laughed at the seeming inevitability of it all. 

Failed relationships. I certainly confirmed that with Val. 

Things others have done to us. Does getting shot count? I am disgusted at the hate I still harbor for Bruno, Sonrisa and Mayor Steckler. Two of them are dead, but I haven't been able to let go. 

Guilt at our own actions. Peter and Nathan definitely come to mind. 

Not being able to do what we once could. Something as simple as walking would probably fit the bill. Jack talked about catastrophic injury and extreme emotional pain. Those were his words not mine. But they accurately describe what I have been feeling. 

Loneliness. God, I don't want to think about that one right now. 

A recent major loss. Jack called it a trigger incident. Dr. Vertes getting herself killed was definitely that for me, in the most literal sense of the word. 

As I write down this list, I hate the fact that I have to struggle so hard to find some hope for myself. And yet I am doing it. If Eyes Only has the ability to save the world, the least he could do is find some hope for one pathetic man. How difficult could that be? 

Jack talked about the things that helped him get through those early days. 

"Logan, the best choice I ever made was to postpone the decision to end my life. Everything else stemmed from that." He talked about finding a person he could talk to. He talked about that first conversation with his friend, which was so much like the one we had today. 

He talked about writing down his thoughts and finding clarity. I hadn't written a thing since Dr. Vertes name appeared on my computer monitor. Maybe if I had continued to write my feelings down, no matter how painful they were, maybe I wouldn't have been looking down the barrel of my gun yesterday. As I look back at the last year, I realize I've often had these thoughts, but as I wrote them down, I would find that spark of hope that kept me going for another day, or another week, or another month. 

He talked about setting small goals and eventually expanding on them. What? Saving the world isn't a small enough goal? I suppose I can focus on bringing down one scum lord at a time. I hadn't really paid attention earlier, but now I remember Jack mentioning Allan Lans. He said Eyes Only's broadcasts were the reason he didn't vote for Lans. He said that no one he knew voted for Lans either. He said they were grateful for the work Eyes Only did. After everything I have been feeling, I really needed to hear that today. I needed to know that my efforts were making a difference for people. 

Jack talked about his goal to play a few minutes of basketball everyday and of the boost those few minutes gave him. I admit that playing basketball has helped me as well. That last day on the court was certainly a high for me. Those endorphins are definitely powerful drugs. They gave me the boost I needed to ask Max to the wedding, which was definitely one of the most memorable days in my life. 

Jack and I talked for hours. He truly understands what I have been experiencing. He has lived it and he has made it through to the other side. Now I'm beginning to believe that, if it's possible for him, it is also possible for me. He dropped me off downstairs with the promise of a basketball game in a few days. The first thing I did after I rolled through the door was to update Bling on my situation. He accepted it with his usual calmness and understanding. If he suspected before, now he knows. I won't be hiding things from him anymore. Maybe he will hear me scream some day. And so might Max. She heard my silent screams yesterday and she was there for me. I know she will always be there for me when I need her. 

Then I pulled out this notebook and started to write. It's taken me a while to get this all down, but it is worth it. I have something I can work with here. I know now that I am not alone. Just knowing that I have someone to rely on makes all the difference in the world. 

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, Logan." Those were Jack's final words to me as he dropped me off tonight. I know it will take me a while to learn to do that, but if I can take care of other people, I can also take care of myself. The bruise on my thigh is a good reminder of that. I couldn't feel the damage I was doing yesterday, but at least my body responded appropriately. My leg did not like that one bit. My legs aren't dead and neither am I. I need to take better care of them. I need to take better care of myself. 

Jack warned me that the thoughts and feeling that I have been experiencing won't just disappear. I have already experienced that. Yesterday I thought I had put those thoughts behind me, but a few hours later they returned with a vengeance. Jack also reassured me that those feeling don't have to overwhelm me if I am prepared for them. He reminded me that I have many resources at my disposal and he is right. I do. I have Max, Bling and Jack, and I know that they each care about me deeply. But most importantly, I am willing to struggle for my life now. I will do what it takes to create a life for myself. And I will I do what it takes to find a way out of this chair. But I will not put my life on hold until that time. I want to live now. 

Peace. Out. 

Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 0.6.7 -->


	61. Fri Mar 6, 2020 - Ground Zero (Haven)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Female Trouble  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 61 - Friday March 6, 2020 - Ground Zero (Haven)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Friday March 6, 2020  
  
When I promised myself a week ago that I would accept my life, I did not expect to find myself flat on my back in a bar. For a moment when B.C. was wolf whistling at Max, I forgot that I am a man in a wheelchair. I forgot about everything except protecting her. What right did he have to treat her like an object? He didn't know her. I called him on it and effectively insulted him. Then in a second, I was on my back on the floor. I should have expected that those Neanderthals would have reacted the way they did. They had me out of the picture in about two seconds flat. What was I doing trying to protect Max like some testosterone-laden alpha male? If I had any doubts in the past about my ability to protect her, tonight proved my ineffectiveness once and for all. Of course Max doesn't need me. She had those three guys on the floor while I had barely managed to right the chair and began to pull myself in. It hadn't been that long since I had to do this, so I remembered all the techniques Bling and I worked out. But I had forgotten how difficult they were to actually implement. I was back dealing with the fact that I couldn't even control my hips. I'm a T8 paraplegic again with only moderate abdominal function and no lower extremity function whatsoever. Then like the wonderful compassionate person that she is, Max dusted herself off and hurried over to help me back into my chair. She took care of business and I couldn't even take care of myself.  
  
I don't know what was more embarrassing, being dumped on the floor, struggling to get back in the chair while Max took care of business, being helped back into the chair by Max, or just forgetting who I was. I'm no hero, protector of widows, small animals and transgenic soldiers. What was I thinking trying to protect Max's virtue? The man in the wheelchair, protecting the superhero goddess. What a farce!  
  
How will I ever get past this? I am willing to accept not climbing Mount Rainier. I am willing to accept many things that come with being in this chair. I am willing to accept having only half a life, at least it's a life. But tonight is not what I signed up for. I don't want it. I hate what I am. I feel like I am back at ground zero with Max and everything else in my miserable life. I feel like I have to claw my way back again. 


	62. Sat Mar 7, 2020 - It Was War? (Haven)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 62 - Saturday March 7, 2020 - It Was War? (Haven)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Saturday March 7, 2020  
  
He made it sound like a war. He talked about being on the front lines. Snipers shooting at policemen. Firemen having their throats slit by piano wire strung across doorways. People lynching their neighbors. Herman described a city that was out of control, and a police force that was under siege. The protestors that were killed weren't people to him. They were the enemy. He said the police knew the protestors would try to kill them when they were released, and so they did something about it. They killed the protestors first. Herman doesn't see anything wrong with what they did. To him, it was self-preservation. Even ten years later, he feels the same way. It wasn't about the power struggle. It wasn't about police brutality. It was about pure instinctual survival. "Kill or be killed," he said. To him, it was as simple as that. The only time I felt anything remotely close to what Herman described was when the Reds were after Max. But those circumstances were so different. They were attacking Max. They weren't sitting in a cell somewhere with their arms tied behind their backs. Doesn't Herman understand that no matter what the potential threat was, killing those protestors was murder? The circumstances didn't change that.  
  
  
  
Then Herman placed it all squarely back on my shoulders. He said the police were only trying to protect people like me, the ones with the most to lose. Do I have a brand on my forehead that says 'Rich, Spoiled, Useless. Protect at all costs'? Yet, Herman took one look at me and he had me pegged. When the pulse happened, that was exactly what I was, a spoiled rich kid more concerned that his uncle would embarrass him because he ran the family yacht aground than with what had just happened to the world. I was one of those people that sat around in a café wearing a two thousand dollar wristwatch, planning my next vacation. I had studied journalism. I thought I had a social conscience, but I didn't understand anything at all. I had no clue. I continued to live that life after the pulse, insulated in my little world. I let others do the dirty work for me. I was too focused on my own life to be bothered. I doubt that I will ever be able to make up for my apathy, or for my passive acceptance of all the things that were 'necessary' in the name of security. I was as much to blame as anyone was. I have as much blood on my hands as those who pulled the triggers. No matter how much I have tried, I haven't been able to shake my past. I know I have much more than I deserve. I feel it more keenly now than ever before. I doubt that I will ever be able to repay the debt that I owe.  
  
Maybe things are not as black and white as I first believed. It is possible that what happened was more a result of desperation than premeditation. Maybe those police officers needed to do what they did to survive. Herman considered it a war. Maybe it was. But I still don't know if I can accept his concept of survival at all costs. I don't know if I can just throw out everything I believe in. I doubt that I could fight that way. If we don't hold onto our values, even in the most extreme situations, then we become just like those we are fighting, animals in a jungle. I can't accept that. There has to be more to the human race than just brutality and survival. There has to be some good in the world. 


	63. Tues, Mar 10, 2020 - Aftermath (Haven)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 63 - Tuesday March 10, 2020 - Aftermath (Haven)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Tuesday March 10, 2020  
  
I don't feel like a superhero or even a sidekick, I just feel physically and emotionally drained. The pain in my chest where the shotgun blast hit on Sunday is constant. I can't even do a simple chair transfer without Bling's assistance. I can barely push my chair across the room. Each push sends searing pain across my chest and down my arms. My body is a wreck. I haven't felt this dependent since Bling brought me home from the hospital ten months ago. I had forgotten how important the use of my arms was to me, but getting shot in the chest has certainly reminded me of that. They are my mobility and my freedom. Without them I am completely helpless.  
  
When we left Cape Haven though, I was so pumped on adrenaline that I barely felt anything. Every single ounce of my energy was focussed on surviving. The signals my body was sending barely registered against the shock of just having killed four men. The ride home in the tow truck is a blur. I vaguely remember unloading the car and asking Bling to help Max settle in, before I fell exhausted into bed.  
  
The intense throbbing in my head woke me up a few hours later. I was grateful that it was still dark outside. I couldn't have handled light at that point. My whole body ached. I managed to roll onto my side and sit up when a wave of nausea washed over me. I sat there, holding my head in my hands, for what seemed like an eternity, trying to quell the urge to empty my stomach onto the floor. Eventually the wave subsided and I was able to breath more normally again. I desperately wanted to get the blood and grime from the previous night off me. My chair was right beside the bed so ignoring my aching body, I attempted to transfer into it. Instead I found myself doubled over from the intense, gut wrenching pain in my chest. My stomach emptied itself then and the heaving intensified the pain even more. I heard a low moan echoing in the room before a suffocating black cloak wrapped itself around me. Bling told me later that he heard my cry and came in and caught me just before I joined the contents of my stomach on the floor.  
  
The oblivion was short lived though, as a persistent voice dragged me back into consciousness. "Logan, wake up." I was back on the bed lying on my side. There were pillows behind me preventing me from rolling onto my back. My brain was trying to comprehend how I got there. Then I managed to formulate a coherent thought. Must be Bling "Logan, wake up." It was Bling. His words drilled through my skull, increasing the throbbing in my head.  
  
"What?" I asked wearily, trying to shield my eyes from the light coming from the bedside lamp. I didn't remember turning that on. Bling didn't make any move to turn it off though, he just stared at me cautiously and rattled off a list of questions.  
  
"Can you tell me where you are?"  
  
"Home. What time is it?"  
  
"4:00 am. Can you tell me what just happened?"  
  
"Passed out. How's Max?"  
  
"Good. She went home. Can you tell me where you were last night?"  
  
"Cape Haven."  
  
Bling kept asking me questions. When did we leave? What time did we get home? I dredged out the answers from the depths of my tortured brain. I couldn't even think clearly enough to ask why he was interrogating me. The only thing that I could focus on was getting that light turned off. For the second time I somehow managed to push myself into a sitting position. Bad decision. Another wave of nausea flooded over me and the black cloak threatened to take over again.  
  
"Still feeling nauseous?" Bling asked gently.  
  
"Yeah" I answered closing my eyes and focusing on breathing. Eventually the waves settled down.  
  
"Can you tell me what happened last night?" Bling asked still looking at me with concern.  
  
"Had an encounter with some of the locals." I began, just as the smell of smoke, blood and vomit hit me with full force. I looked down and realized that I was still wearing the same shirt I had on at the cabin. I had stripped off the kevlar vest as I came through the bedroom door the night before, but I was so exhausted that I just fell into bed with the rest of my clothes still on. The vest had absorbed most of BC's blood but the shirt hadn't been spared. It was caked with dirt and blood and fresh vomit. I desperately needed to get it off me. I gritted my teeth and managed to pull it over my head despite the stabbing pain in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my arms against my ribs trying to stop some of the pain. When I looked up Bling's expression had changed from one of caution to shock.  
  
"What is that?" His voice shook as he stared at me. I looked down then to see a massive bruise that had spread from my sternum to my shoulders.  
  
"Shotgun blast, point blank range. Luckily I was wearing a kevlar vest at the time." I nodded towards the corner where I had dumped the vest, which only helped to reinforce the throbbing in my head, forcing me to shut my eyes again.  
  
"Headache's pretty bad." Bling stated, as he reached over and performed the merciful act of finally turning off the light. "Do you remember any details?"  
  
"I was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, then the next thing I remember I was on my back on the floor." I answered staring straight ahead. As long as I didn't move the headache seemed to subside to a dull ache.  
  
"Any idea how long you were out?"  
  
"Maybe a couple of minutes. It couldn't have been longer." I didn't bother to add 'or else we would all have been dead'.  
  
"Okay. Why don't you lie down and get some rest?" Bling prompted.  
  
"I really need to get cleaned up." I said reaching for my chair.  
  
"I wouldn't recommend that." Bling placed a hand on the chair stopping me.  
  
"I'm not going to lie in blood and grime all night" I countered.  
  
"Logan, if you haven't figured it out already you've got a concussion." Bling had that don't mess with me tone back in his voice. "And the way you are guarding your chest it's obvious you have some very deep bruising, and possibly some torn muscles or cracked ribs as well."  
  
"I still need to get cleaned up." I insisted.  
  
"Okay. We'll get you cleaned up, but you are officially forbidden from doing transfers on your own." In one fluid motion Bling transferred me into the chair triggering only about half the pain as when I had tried to do it myself. He had obviously not forgotten how to do transfers, even though it had been months since I needed that type of assistance. "I don't have to tell you how important it is to maintain your upper body strength. You don't want to develop a chronic injury because you weren't willing to take a couple of days to heal properly."  
  
As I pushed myself toward the bathroom my body painfully acknowledged just how right Bling was. My muscles burned with every push on the wheels of my chair. I could barely keep myself going in a straight line. It was obvious that there was no way I would have been able to do a transfer. I didn't even bother to protest when Bling followed me right into the bathroom. I knew that he was concerned that I would lose consciousness again and there was absolutely no way he would leave me alone.. Bling waited silently while I stripped right down and rolled into the shower. I stayed under the steaming stream long after the last traces of blood and dirt had been washed down the drain, letting the rhythmic beating of the hot water work out some of the tension in my body. Thirty minutes later I finally toweled myself off. After a vigorous round with the toothbrush, both the headache and nausea had subsided significantly. I wheeled back into the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers, then with Bling's assistance I transferred back onto the bed. The whole routine reminded me of those early days right after my injury. It took me weeks to earn the privilege of using the bathroom alone, there was just too much that could go wrong in there. No privacy. It had been just another fact in my miserable existence as a newly injured paraplegic. Still I had no idea at that moment, just how much like those early days this week would be.  
  
"How's the headache and nausea?" Bling asked a final time.  
  
"Better." I answered truthfully.  
  
"Good. It's probably just a mild concussion. Though that fact that you've lost consciousness twice concerns me. Try to get some sleep. I'll be back in an hour to check on you." Bling said quietly as he shut the door.  
  
I rarely sleep on demand, but I was out before the door had been firmly shut. Regrettably that was the last truly deep sleep I have enjoyed. An hour later Bling was back waking me up. After three more wake ups in the next three hours I gave up trying sleep and asked Bling to help me out of bed. The first thing I did, after Bling helped me into the chair, was page Max. I wanted to know for myself that she was okay. It was such a relief hearing her voice on that phone a few minutes later. I elicited promise of dinner at 7:00 pm and reluctantly let her get back to work. Then I tried to do some work of my own, but I've never been so unfocussed in my life. After thirty minutes of frustration I slammed the laptop shut. I didn't even bother to pull out my notebook. I knew I would have as much success writing as I did working. I spent the rest of my day staring out the window and counting the minutes until I could begin preparations for dinner.  
  
At least I was still able to do that. Max stayed until midnight last night, we ate, we talked and we even discussed what happened back at the cabin. Max had been unconscious for most of it so I gave her a rundown. I was able to relax a bit for the few hours that she was here, even the pain in my chest seemed less intense. But after she left I couldn't sleep. I nodded off at 3:00 am, but I woke up a few minutes later dreaming about shoving a knife into BC. So I went back to watching the clock again, waiting for Max to return for breakfast.  
  
Max has left for work and Bling is heading out to run a few errands. I want to get out of this apartment too, but I know I won't be able to keep up with Bling and I can't see myself being pushed down the market aisles by him or anyone else. I don't want to give up every last thread of my independence. Somehow, I have to find a way to face this day. I can't spend another day or another sleepless night watching the clock. I don't want to go back to that dark place where I was trapped ten days ago. Yet, I already feel myself sliding closer. What's worse this time though, is I don't even have a physical release, I can't play basketball, I can't work out, I can hardly move. I barely stayed alive the last time I felt like this. I can't let that happen again. 


	64. Th, Mar 12, 2020 - What am I? (Haven)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 64 - Thursday March 12, 2020 - What am I? (Haven)  
  
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Thursday March 12, 2020  
  
This whole week has been an exercise in frustration and contradictions.  
  
I don't know what I am anymore, strong or weak, determined to live or completely hopeless, a victim or a survivor?  
  
This past year, I have constantly struggled against physical weakness. I have worked hard to adapt to my disability, but I am reminded every day of what I have lost. I have felt it keenly in my work. In the past I could plan a job and execute it effectively. Since the shooting, I have been relegated to a life in front of a computer monitor, depending on others to risk their lives for my work. It goes way past having to use a wheelchair. Every facet of my life has been affected. That little scene in the bar on Friday night was just one more example to add to the book of Logan's inadequacies.  
  
I never expected to find myself in an even more vulnerable position two days later. How could a man in a wheelchair and a twelve-year-old child defend themselves against four men that were prepared to commit murder? There was no way for us to escape. There wasn't even a way to call for help. There was just the two of us with a very sick Max to take care of. We had no choice but to stay and fight. Despite all our preparations, I doubted that we would win. I could hear it in my voice when BC and his crew returned. "Leave now, or you will meet with forceful resistance." I didn't really believe those words when I said them. No wonder they laughed at me. They didn't believe me either. But somehow I found the strength inside me to do whatever it took to beat them. Even with my disability, I was stronger than BC. I was stronger than all of them. I learned that I had stores of strength that I never believed existed.  
  
Now all that strength seems to have disappeared once again. I feel weaker than ever. I should not have expected to escape that fight unscathed. We got out of there with our lives, so I should be grateful for that. I should be able to live with some injuries for a few days. It should not be that difficult. Yet, I'm finding it almost impossible to reconcile what I was able to do on Sunday with how I feel now. How can I be both weak and strong? How can I fight so hard for my life one day only to have feelings of worthlessness return the next?  
  
I have done everything in my power to keep myself together, things I never thought I would do. It began Tuesday morning when Bling was heading out to the farmers' market. It was shaping up to become another long day of clock watching, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Just go with him, the survivor inside me prompted.  
  
"Wait!" I called to him, surprising myself.  
  
I followed Bling to the car then let him help me into the passenger's seat. I was so desperate at that point that even the prospect of sitting in the car while he shopped seemed more appealing than staying at home all day. When we arrived at the market, though, Bling pulled out the chair and for some reason I allowed him to help me into it. I pushed my self into the market, but my strength lasted only as a far as the first vendor's stall. I expected Bling to help me back into the car, but instead he placed the grocery bags in my lap and proceeded to push me through the rest of the market. And I let him. I let him on Tuesday and yesterday and even this morning. I can't believe that I have been willing to do that.  
  
When we returned from the market, I did an equally incomprehensible thing. I picked up the phone and called Jack. The phone felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in my hand. I was that reluctant to rehash all this stuff again. Wasn't once in a lifetime enough? But the survivor inside me insisted that I do it. Jack reminded me that I couldn't fix everything in two weeks. We spent a couple hours talking through some of it, and we have talked every day since then. We haven't found any instant solutions, but at least I have one more voice telling me that I can get through this.  
  
My head is clearer now, so I've even managed to do some work today. I have an informant who claims to know who was behind the heist of the nuclear warheads from Marsh Airforce Base. I encouraged him to provide me with the data disks and encryption algorithms for his organization. Hopefully with that information, we will be able to intercept the warheads before they are shipped out of the country.  
  
And of course, I've had Max over for breakfast and dinner every day. Her presence is definitely a comfort. Sometimes when I am with Max, I think that things will be fine, but then she leaves and the blackness returns. I've tried so hard to fight it this time. I've struggled to fill my days with purposeful activities. I've surrounded myself with people to talk to and things to do, but despite everything, the blackness has continued to creep up on me. I'm barely keeping a step ahead of it. I'm not sure what has brought this on, sleep deprivation, exhaustion, lack of mobility. I know Bling's advice is sound. You don't keep working with an injury. It's just asking for long term consequences. But the immobility has only made me feel worse, like an invalid who can't do anything for himself. And that is exactly how it has been. Bling lifts me into bed and out of bed, onto the sofa and off the sofa. The worst thing is that I am so sore and exhausted that I don't even have the strength to protest. I know I can't do it by myself. I tell myself that this is only for a few days, that I'll have my strength back soon, but I still hate these feelings of weakness.  
  
I find myself drawn to the window, just wanting to stare out at the city as the seconds tick by on the clock. I've already spent too many sleepless nights doing just that. When I do catch a few minutes of sleep, I have recurrent dreams of ambushes and shootings and shame. I keep reliving the embarrassment of being knocked out of my chair by BC and his friends and the shock of killing them later.  
  
I'm not the useless victim in that bar. BC and company may have knocked me flat on my back, but in the end I was stronger than them. Against all odds, the guy in the wheelchair overcame adversity and prevailed. I won, didn't I? I got my revenge. I should be happy. But I'm not happy. Killing those men has not been gratifying at all. It was necessary to ensure Max and Sage's survival. I tell myself that I did the right thing. Sometimes you don't have a choice. Even Max told me that. It had to be the right thing. I know I would do it again in the same circumstances, but I still can't get that night out of my mind. Those images have been haunting me all week. I blew up a man and I shot another in the chest. I kept trying to give them a chance, but they wouldn't let me. They wouldn't back down. They wouldn't stop. They just kept shooting. They weren't going to stop until they killed me. So I killed them.  
  
A day earlier, I couldn't comprehend it when Herman described firemen having their throats sliced open by piano wire. How could people do that to each other? I could never do anything like that. But the moment I was threatened, I strung up some fishing line of my own. And when the opportunity presented itself, I drew a man to it. I had already learned that there was no room to hesitate. He slit his throat, as I knew he would. I remember his blood dripping from the fishing line. Oh God! I did that. I rigged that line to get that exact result.  
  
Then I shot off BC's kneecap. I would have killed him if I could have. I had no qualms about shooting him in the back. I wasn't able to do that, but at least I brought him down to the floor and onto a level playing field with me. He was on top of me with a knife in his hand, but I was focused and confident. It was easy for me to overpower him and shove his own knife into him. I felt that knife cutting through him, but that wasn't enough. I kept pushing and twisting and forcing it in further. I wanted him dead. All my ideals had vanished. There was no room for kindness. There was just brutality and survival. It was kill first or be killed. I never quite understood what I was capable of, but now I know and it scares me to the core. I am afraid that I am just like those protestors and the police officers that killed them. In the end, I will do anything to survive. In the end, it is the only principle that I have, and that scares me more than anything. 


	65. Fri, Mar 13, 2020 - Gray Skies (Haven)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 65 - Friday March 13, 2020 -Gray Skies (Haven)  
  
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Friday March 13, 2020  
  
8:30 am  
  
I spent most of last night watching the rain. That's three nights in a row now. I know that I should get more rest, but my body doesn't want to comply. At least I've been able to watch the sunrise each morning, even when it is obscured by the clouds. No matter how much it rains, or how dark the night is, the sky eventually changes from black to purple to gray. Sometimes when I'm lucky, the sky turns a beautiful azure blue filled with golden light, though that has not happened yet this week. That's where Max found me this morning, watching the sunrise behind the veil of clouds. I felt her presence even before she approached me with a gentle hand on my shoulder and a soft "Hey".  
  
"It's interesting how the sun always rises," I said quietly, still watching the silvery white disk behind the gray clouds.  
  
"One of the good things we can rely on," she replied with uncharacteristic reverence as she stood beside me in the gray morning light.  
  
"Yeah," I acknowledged as I turned to her. When she turned to face me, her expression changed from one of quiet contemplation to one of concern.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Haven't been sleeping much," I admitted, realizing I probably looked as exhausted as I felt. Three days without sleep will do that to a nonX5, even to a chronic insomniac like myself.  
  
"You don't have to make breakfast if you're tired. I could whip us up a couple of spur-of-the-moment bowls of Cornflakes," she offered with a smile. I grinned at that, but I wasn't about to give up the pleasure of cooking for her.  
  
"Not in the Cale household. Here, guests are served in style. How does Eggs Benny sound to you?" I suggested as I turned and headed into the kitchen.  
  
"Are you sure?" She asked with concern still in her voice.  
  
"Definitely," I answered, leaving no room for argument. "But don't think you're getting off easy. You have to maintain your end of the conversation." I grinned at her mischievously knowing it would bring a smile to her face.  
  
"No problem there," she answered with a sly smile of her own, not disappointing me at all. True to her word, she entertained me as I cooked, then dug into her breakfast with that enthusiasm and appreciation that I've grown to love. Just having her here made everything much lighter.  
  
I thought that I had succeeded at putting her mind at ease, but when I escorted her to the door, the look of concern had returned to her face. She couldn't help checking again before she left.  
  
"You okay?" She asked quietly.  
  
"I've had a rough couple of days, but I'll work through it." I tried to reassure her. I promised myself not to hide from her anymore. But I still find it hard to tell her the full extent of what is going on, especially when I don't even understand it myself.  
  
"I'll drop by later," she promised gently as she reached for the doorknob. Then she paused and turned back to face me. "Logan, if you need anything, promise you will call."  
  
I nodded absentmindedly. Now that she was leaving, I found myself drifting again. The numbing rain outside the window was already beckoning me.  
  
"Logan!" Max's shout snapped me back into the present.  
  
"Look at me!" She glared in frustration, but I could see hints of the fear that was so obvious two weeks ago returning to her eyes. "I'll be here in five minutes flat. Do you promise?"  
  
"I promise," I answered, looking directly into her eyes. This time, I meant it. There was no way I was going to scare her like that ever again. Max seemed satisfied with that and reluctantly shut the door behind her when she left.  
  
She's been gone for a few minutes and I am not at the window. I can't waste my life staring at the rain. That won't solve anything. Bling is out on a few errands, so for the first time this week I have this place to myself. That is as it should be. My life is in my own hands, as it always has been. I can't allow these feelings to bury me. Hopefully, if I keep writing, I can work through them, sort them out, clarify them, purge them. I have to dig myself out of this hole that I'm in. 


	66. Sat Mar 14, 2020 - Through Darkness (Hav...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 66 - Saturday March 14, 2020 - Through Darkness (Haven)  
  
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Saturday March 14, 2020  
  
8:00 am  
  
So you're in a hole, Logan, and you want to get out. You think it is difficult to climb out now. Well, you haven't fought nearly hard enough. You need a few more obstacles to prove your commitment. Let's see how you do with an additional ton of bricks on your head. Let's see how much further you can sink.  
  
When the doorbell rang yesterday morning, I was sure it was Max. I thought she had decided to come back to 'talk'.  
  
"Perfect timing!" I grinned as I opened the door with enthusiasm. I never expected Jonas and Margo.  
  
"Logan, darling!" Aunt Margo breezed through the door, followed by Uncle Jonas with his usual gift bottle of wine. "We haven't seen you since the wedding, so we thought we would come by and see how you are doing." There was almost a note of sincerity in Margo's voice that the desperate part of me latched onto. They are my family after all.  
  
"I'm okay. Thanks for asking." I answered cautiously as I escorted them into the apartment. A part of me couldn't help thinking that, maybe this time, things would be different.  
  
"We heard a rumor that you were undergoing a new therapy that was showing positive results." Jonas got right to the point even before I had put his 'gift' down in my lap. My stomach sank. They had come to see for themselves whether the black sheep of the family had managed to do something right for once, which of course he hadn't.  
  
"As you can see, it's not true," I answered, trying to hide my disappointment. They were two weeks too late for the dog and pony show.  
  
"Yes, I can see that." Jonas paused for a moment, not having much to say now that it was confirmed that I was as flawed as ever.  
  
"Are you still writing those little articles?" He began again. His tone was disapproving, as if I was an immature child that needed supervision. "How can you live this way?" The way he looked at me, I wasn't sure if he disapproved more of my writing or of my life in the wheelchair.  
  
"I'm doing okay," I answered uncomfortably.  
  
"I don't think you are." Jonas snapped with growing impatience. He didn't have to say anything else. I knew that he considered allowing myself to get shot to be the most irresponsible thing I'd ever done. The way he looked at me, I could tell that he was reviewing the list of all the things that I had done wrong, my irresponsibility, my failures, my embarrassment to the family. We had been through this so many times.  
  
"Look, Jonas. I'm not the Messiah. I can't walk on water." I began to defend myself for the thousandth time, but I suddenly realized how futile it was. I would never be the person he wanted me to be. And we would never have the relationship that I had hoped for all these years. I couldn't even get angry. I just felt immensely sorry for what we had lost.  
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I searched their eyes, looking for some sign of understanding. It was a foolish plea.  
  
"So am I." Jonas' tone as he turned to leave made it abundantly clear that I had brought this onto myself. I shut the door behind them, the family embarrassment once again.  
  
"You allow yourself to be crapped all over by your family." That's what Max said once before. I had done it again. Fool. Failure. Why did I expect more from them? Maybe Jonas was right. Maybe I was a failure. I couldn't stand up to him or anyone else in my family.  
  
Without quite realizing what I was doing, I rolled to the computer desk and tried to push myself into a standing position. "Just stand up for once!" I yelled at myself. But of course, my legs couldn't hold me up and neither could my arms. I fell onto the floor, taking the contents of the desktop with me. Jonas' bottle shattered a couple of feet away from me, releasing a pool of wine onto the floor. I shoved the chair as far across the room as I could, wanting to get away from it and all it represented. Above me was the drawer where I kept my gun and by my leg was my phone. I began to reach for the phone. Then I changed my mind.  
  
I pulled myself up towards the drawer, ignoring the searing pain in my chest, and pulled out the gun and the box of bullets. I removed the clip and pulled out a bullet. Those bullets still taunted me, telling me my life was meaningless. They were such a simple solution to all my problems. But as I rolled the bullet in my fingers just as I had done two weeks ago, I didn't believe it anymore. I had spent so many years fighting and I wasn't going to give up now. I wasn't going to let my injury kill me, and I definitely wasn't going to let Uncle Jonas kill me. I was going to fight for my life. With all the force of my determination, I picked up the gun and the box of bullets and I hurled them across the room. Then I picked up the phone. 


	67. Sat, Mar 14, 2020 - Somebody's Angel (Ha...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Haven  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 67 - Saturday March 14, 2020 - Somebody's Angel (Haven)  
  
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Saturday March 14, 2020  
  
9:00 am  
  
The sky is blue this morning. I am back at the window, but this time I'm watching the sunlight streaming into the apartment. It feels so appropriate to be in the light again.  
  
Calling Max yesterday was the best decision I ever made. I dialed Jam Pony, hoping to catch her before she went on her first run. I don't know exactly what I said, but Max was on the phone in five seconds.  
  
"You said if I wanted to talk." I began hesitatingly, but Max cut me off.  
  
"Logan, I'll be there in five minutes. Can you do me a favor and talk to Normal until I get there?" Fear and urgency mingled with the gentleness in her voice. Before I could respond, an irritated Normal had taken over.  
  
"Go on! Get out of here." He shouted partially into the phone. "You'd think that girl doesn't trust me. As if talking to me for five minutes would drive a person to suicide." He continued mumbling to himself. I was incredulous. Max wanted me to talk to this guy?  
  
"Logan, is it?" The voice suddenly became clearer.  
  
"Hey." I responded reluctantly.  
  
"I've seen you around a few times. Took Max to that wedding, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'm not quite sure what you see in her, aside from her obvious assets. Though I doubt the fact that she can peddle a bike and deliver packages on time can compensate for that attitude of hers." Normal definitely had a unique perception of things. Pedaling a bike would never have been at the top of my list of Max's obvious assets.  
  
"Well, I guess that's more than you can say about half the cretins around here." He continued griping.  
  
"Answer a question, would you?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. "What brought you to Jam Pony?" I couldn't comprehend what he was doing in a place that he appeared to hate.  
  
"Harvard PHD in Management Science. An opportunity for practical application." Normal's tone had suddenly turned clinical. "Where did you go to school?"  
  
"Yale."  
  
"Journalism, right?" His tone changed once again, taking on a more personal ring.  
  
"Yeah." I responded, completely surprised that he would know that. What had Max told him?  
  
"Can be a challenging career, especially in this era. I much preferred George W. Bush's administration. That man knew what free speech meant."  
  
"I was a kid then. I don't remember that much."  
  
"I had just enrolled in Harvard. I was young and idealistic. The whole country was more like that then."  
  
"We've lost a lot," I said, not quite hiding the regret in my voice.  
  
"Yeah, but we're not going to let go that easily, are we?" Normal seemed to have changed subjects once again. I got the distinct impression he wasn't talking about the state of the nation any more.  
  
"No, we won't," I answered with greater conviction. I knew exactly what I was referring to.  
  
Max walked in at that moment, cutting our conversation short. I tried to thank Normal for his time, but he brushed me off.  
  
"Tell Max she owes me two free hot runs. Time is money after all."  
  
"Thanks anyway," I insisted.  
  
"Hmm." Was the extent of his 'your welcome' as he hung up.  
  
"Interesting boss you've got there, Max." I couldn't keep the amusement out of my voice.  
  
"Figured you could use some comic relief." Max smiled  
  
"He says you owe him two hot runs." I grinned.  
  
"In his dreams!" Max laughed again. Then her gaze changed as she surveyed the disaster on the floor.  
  
"Sorry about the mess." I offered, suddenly embarrassed, but Max barely blinked at the mess as she quietly sat down beside me.  
  
"I've been struggling with old demons the last few days." I struggled to explain myself. "Had a short visit from Jonas and Margo. Kinda pushed me over the edge. Max, when I told you I didn't care what they thought about me, it wasn't true. After my parents died, they were the only ones remotely close to parents that I had. When I was younger, I tried so hard to please them, but I could never meet their expectations." In a few disjointed sentences, my sorrow poured out.  
  
"I find it so incongruous that I can have a deeper conversation with Normal than with my own Uncle and Aunt." I said with frustration.  
  
"That's a new one for the presses, Normal, the great conversationalist." Max smiled.  
  
"Yeah." I responded quietly, but my mind was still on my failure with Jonas and Margo. It reminded me so much of the situation with Valerie. I thought we had love there, but it turned out that we had nothing. "I don't understand why I keep trying to believe in things that were never there in the first place." I voiced my disappointment out loud. Max silently met my gaze. I could tell from her eyes that she has also had many disappointments in her life.  
  
"Oh God, Max. Why don't they love me?" I asked, with a childish longing I didn't realize I had. Max was silent for a long time. I shouldn't have asked her that question. It was so unfair of me to burden her like that. She knew more than anyone what it was like to be starved of love.  
  
"Logan, I've never seen a picture of your mom. Do you look like her?" Max asked, taking me completely by surprise. I couldn't understand why she would ask that then.  
  
"If you will get the album in the cabinet, I'll show you a few pictures," I suggested, willing to humor her on this. As I turned the pages and explained the pictures to Max, the memories of my childhood flooded back. Mom smiling encouragingly as I learned to ride a bike. Our family car trips with Bennett tagging along. The fights we used to get into in the back seat. Dad yelling at us to quit it, but secretly enjoying the scuffles.  
  
"Here's one you'll like." I laughed as I turned to a hilarious shot of me flying off a diving board. I was such a gangly kid back then, with my arms and legs flailing in the air. "I think Dad took that shot. That may have been at the hotel that I was telling you about with the high dive. But as you can see, there was no way I was going up there. The three meter board was good enough for me."  
  
"Great form!" Max laughed as well as we continued to flip through the album.  
  
We soon found the pictures of Mom. She looked as beautiful as ever. She had brought so much beauty and love into my life. Dad had probably taken most of those pictures. I remembered that despite his rough edges, his love for Mom and for me was unmistakable. Suddenly, I realized what Max was doing. Whatever else happened in my life, I did have people who loved me and accepted me, and I always would. One of them was sitting right beside me at that moment.  
  
"Thanks, Max." I smiled at her in gratitude.  
  
"Show me some more pictures, Logan." She responded with a beaming smile of her own. We finished looking at the album and then we just kept talking. A few hours later, the grumbling in both our stomachs prompted us to scrape ourselves off the floor and prepare something to eat. We continued to talk until my eyes refused to stay open any longer. By 10:00 p.m. I apologetically excused myself and dragged myself to bed.  
  
The early light streaming through the window woke me up this morning. I lay still for a few minutes, soaking in its gentle warmth. Then I eventually sat up and pulled myself into the chair. I grimaced from the pain as my arms took on the full burden of my weight, but it was not nearly as excruciating today. My body will heal soon. I moved to the window and watched the sun rise until it was full in the sky. Then I slowly opened the bedroom door, not wanting to disturb the quiet stillness in the air, and wheeled into the living room. I was surprised to see Max sleeping on the sofa, but I am glad that she has chosen today to catch some rest. I moved closer to her and watched her sleep for a few minutes. My album lay open on her chest, revealing a picture of Mom and I. I wonder how many times she went through it last night. I thought about moving it, but I know that I get if I get too close to her she will wake up in an instant. That would be such a shame considering how beautiful and peaceful she looks right now.  
  
When Max fell into my life all those months ago, I had no idea how deeply she would affect me. I was mesmerized by her dark eyes. Their depths seemed to continue forever. I have since seen into those depths and I recognize the darkness she has had to fight, but I have also seen the light that shines in her. She has brought more light into my life than I ever expected. It warms my heart to see her sleeping peacefully, with her dark curls falling on her lovely face and her long lashes framing those dark eyes. She seems almost angelic lying there.  
  
Forever Eyes  
  
Dark  
  
Somebody's Angel  
  
  
  
Who am I kidding? She is my angel. 


	68. Monday March 16, 2020 - A Measure of Pe...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Shorties in Love  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
A/N: Thanks everyone for your requests for more Cale Diaries. It's nice to know that you're still interested even though I haven't updated in over a month. You'll be happy to know that these two chapters are just the beginning of at least ten more chapters to come. Expect a couple more Shorties chapters in a couple of days and the Pollo Loco chapters in about a week.  
  
A/N2: To my anonymous reviewers Carolyn, SusanK, Lelu, I'd love to respond to your comments. Just leave an email address with your reviews if you'd like to hear from me.  
  
Chapter 68 - Monday March 16, 2020 - A Measure of Peace (Shorties in Love)  
  
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Monday March 16, 2020  
  
7:00pm  
  
I lost another informant today. He contacted me last night to pass on the encryption algorithm for Lempkin's data files. He also gave me the combination for the safe, but told me I would have to make alternative arrangements to retrieve the data disks that contain the files. He said he would be lucky to make it through the night. Then he hung up without giving me any indication of where he was or any method to contact him. This morning, his body turned up on his mother's doorstep.  
  
Months ago, I told myself that I would accept the possibility that people would die in this ongoing war of ours. But after losing Peter and Nathan, I found that very difficult to do. If this had happened even a couple of days ago, I would have been kicking myself, putting the full weight of this man's death on myself. But I don't feel that way anymore. I hate the fact that he is dead, but I understand that he took responsibility for what he was doing. I did not lead him into danger. He came to me. If he was in Lempkin's inner circle, he must have been involved with organized crime for years. I don't know why he chose to come forward now, whether it was an organizational power struggle or a change of heart. He never told me, and now I'll never know. But at least I have the opportunity to use his information to prevent a possible disaster. It amazes me sometimes, but it also encourages me that there are still people out there who are willing to risk everything for what is right.  
  
Max has definitely become one of those people. She has risked a lot for me this year. She has helped me immensely in my work, and even more importantly, she has helped me to survive the darkness in my life. I paged her a few minutes ago to ask for her help once again. Retrieving the disks from Lempkin's safe is a job that is right up her alley. But more than her help with this job, I look forward to the humor that she will bring with her. I could use some of that humor tonight.  
  
Today has shown me that the world is still in turmoil, but it has also reinforced the importance of my mission. I have a purpose in life and I have the strength to accomplish it. I also know that I have good people in my life that I can rely on to help me. Together, we can be a powerful influence for good. The Logan Cale Brigade, Max called us a few months ago. It still makes me smile when I think of that. I realize that we will continue to live in a war zone for the foreseeable future, but now I know how to nurture a measure of peace in my own life.  
  
The Measure of a Life  
  
A measure of strength  
  
A measure of endurance  
  
A measure of understanding  
  
A measure of humor  
  
A measure of peace  
  
  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
8:00 pm  
  
So much for a measure of peace!  
  
How does she do it? How does she manage to turn my life inside out and upside down every time she appears? I know she has extensive stealth training, but this is ridiculous. She appears out of nowhere, absolutely silent. Even when I'm expecting her, she can surprise me. I don't know what scared me more tonight; the fact that she came out of nowhere or the words that came out of her mouth.  
  
"I didn't know you wrote poetry," she said in amusement. Then in the blink of an eye, she yanked this book out of my hands and started flipping through it.  
  
"It's not poetry," I blurted out. Well, it's not all poetry.  
  
Luckily, Max was feeling extremely compassionate today. I only had to ask once and she returned the book. If she had actually read some of what I had written in here, I might as well have dug a hole, thrown myself in and pulled the dirt over me. I would never have been able to look at her again.  
  
"You paged me?" She asked, instantly getting back to business.  
  
"Yeah." I stalled. For a moment I couldn't remember what I had paged her about. Pierpont Lempkin? Right.  
  
So we talked about Pierpont Lempkin and the 'box job' that needed to be done. Well, I tried to talk about Lempkin. Max seemed much more interested in the arrival of Cindy's new girlfriend, or her former girlfriend, whatever she is. I am always amazed at Max's sense of priorities. I was talking about nuclear warheads and Max was checking out her nail polish (nail polish?) and pondering why guys are so fascinated by lesbian relationships. She didn't even look at me. But of course, being the genetically enhanced girl that she is, she can multitask and parallel process like there's no tomorrow. She got right back on topic without missing a beat. I think I did a reasonable job relaying the task at hand, although I have to say I was amused at Max's description of Cindy's amazing, reappearing, kissing girlfriend. Not that I found the subject so fascinating, but I did enjoy the delivery. The truth is it wasn't the subject or the delivery that I was interested in, it was the messenger. I could listen to Max talk about anything.  
  
Then all of a sudden, we were talking about something else, the not unrelated matter of water heaters to be exact. I can't believe Max asked me for permission to walk off with some of Lempkin's cash, though I do love her leaps of logic. "Stealing from a thief really isn't like stealing at all," she said. How was I supposed to respond to that? 'Of course not! Replacing a damaged water heater is such a deserving cause for any stray cash that you may find.' I didn't go quite that far, but neither did I ask her not to do it. The idea didn't bother me as much as I thought it might. She has certainly managed to alter my perception of things.  
  
My perception of a lot of things has changed lately, especially my ability to enjoy life. More and more I find myself tapping into Max's sense of fun. I remember giving her a hard time about that last week, just because she wanted to kick back and enjoy a few carefree days eating S'mores in the fresh country air. Now I think that maybe she has it right. I told Max tonight that we could be out of tomorrows if we don't stop Lempkin, and that was the truth. I understood it intellectually, but it didn't stop me from enjoying my few minutes with her. What's life without some joys in it?  
  
I'm trying to focus on my work, I really am, but I can't multitask the way Max does. I'd rather spend tonight thinking about her and writing about her. I'm surprised that she didn't mention my book again after I set it aside. She didn't even look at it. I hadn't thought about showing her my poetry before, but now I think maybe I should. I've certainly written enough about her.  
  
What am I saying? I must be crazy to even consider doing that. Still, I wonder what she would think about it.  
  
Nail polish? Very nice. 


	69. Tuesday March 17, 2020 - Way More (Short...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
1 Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Shorties in Love  
  
2 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 69 - Tuesday March 17, 2020 - Way More (Shorties in Love)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Tuesday March 17, 2020  
  
One thing I love about Max is her ability to enjoy life. She seizes the joy in everything she does. She is the only cat burglar I know that prepares for a job by taking a bubble bath. That is probably her plan for cracking Lempkin's safe tomorrow.  
  
How to Crack a Safe  
  
Go to work  
  
Deliver packages  
  
Do some recon  
  
Go home  
  
Take bubble bath  
  
Zip on cat suit  
  
Crack safe  
  
She came in this evening while I was working out. Today was the first time I've picked up the weights since we got back from Cape Haven, and it's great to feel strong again. I completed a few sets while Max updated me on her reconnaissance of Lempkin's place. Fence, no problem, easy to jump over. Interior access via a window. Motion sensor grid monitoring access to safe. Max is not overly concerned about it. She said all it will take to bypass it is a jump, a flip and a twist. I wonder what that means?  
  
Then she told me about her assistant, Mr. Rat, who was the perfect diversion for today's recon mission.  
  
"I figured one rat deserves another," she said in a complete deadpan, but the glint in her eyes cracked me up. I laughed so hard I almost dropped the dumbbell I was holding. She's even got the rats contributing to the purchase of a new water heater! That is perfectly logical, of course. The loss of the previous one was their fault after all.  
  
Things became more serious when she told me about the gang that approached her tonight. That got my alarm bells going. She didn't seem to think that they were related to Lydecker, their method of operation was significantly different. That is a relief, though any number of other players could be interested in her. I've already put a trace on the gun she retrieved from the fight. Hopefully, it will provide some clues as to what happened tonight.  
  
With our business concluded, Max said she was going home to relax, but instead she sat down beside me and leaned into my back. I love it when we have close, comfortable contact like that. We haven't been that comfortable with each other since the day we stood together on the beach three weeks ago. Tonight made me even more aware of how important she is to me. Despite the humor with which she approaches things, I understand the risks she takes for me. At that moment, I felt a strong desire to let her know how much I appreciate her and worry about her.  
  
"It's nice to know that you think of me as more than your own private cat burglar," she said happily.  
  
"Way more," I told her, but that isn't the half of it. I worry about her each time she risks her life for me or for her family. I laugh at her antics and attitude. I get angry at her stubbornness and frustrated at her irrationality. I smile when I'm with her. I smile when I think about the last time I was with her, and I smile when I anticipate the next time I will be with her. I write poetry about her for goodness sakes!  
  
Max seemed to sense my feelings today. She even asked me if her name appears in my book at times. Of course, I intended to deny it profusely. 'I don't write poetry and I definitely don't write about you.' In the end, though, I confessed to a 'maybe'. Max seemed pleased with that. The truth is, she would be shocked if she knew just how much she is in this book. She has no idea how she permeates every facet of my life, my work, my writing. Maybe I was hoping to share some of that today, to give her a hint of how I feel. I don't know how she would respond if she knew. The truth is, I think about her every minute of every day. 


	70. Th Mar 19, 2020 - Worry (Shorties in Lov...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
1 Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Shorties in Love  
  
2 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 70 – Thursday March 19, 2020 – Worry (Shorties in Love)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Thursday March 19, 2020  
  
4:00 pm  
  
Tuesday night, I told Max I worry about her, and today she has given me plenty of reason to. I haven't heard from her since our phone call yesterday afternoon. I know better than anyone how well Max can take care of herself, but when I don't hear from her for over twenty-four hours, I can't help but be concerned. I'm beginning to think that the Lempkin job has gone sideways. She hasn't responded to my pages all day. She didn't go home this morning or show up for work today. I spoke to Cindy a few minutes ago and she didn't seem concerned, but then she didn't know about Max's job last night. I've even checked the police arrest records. They don't have anyone in custody matching Max's description, but that doesn't give me much reassurance. If she did get into trouble with Lempkin, I doubt that he would just turn her over to the local authorities. For that matter, those bounty hunters may have intercepted her. There are just too many loose threads and unanswered questions. If I don't hear from her in the next ten minutes, I'm going to start an all out search.  
  
  
  
5:00 pm  
  
Max appeared just as I was about to start my search for her and informed me that the Lempkin job had, in fact, gone sideways. It was only the fact that she was standing in front of me in one piece that kept me calm enough to find out exactly what happened.  
  
Max's night began with Diamond throwing a wrench into the Lempkin job and ended at the research facilities of Synthedine Corporation. It took us the better part of an hour and Sebastian's considerable resources to unravel the tangled Diamond/Synthedine connection and bring us to the real issue at hand. Now I have much more to worry about than a failed box job. The bounty hunters Synthedine hired weren't after Max, they were after Diamond. She was one of the subjects in Synthedine's prison testing program. They had infected her with a deadly and highly contagious 'designer disease', as Sebastian called it. She has been off her medications for two weeks and is on the brink of infecting everyone she comes into contact with. No wonder they want her back so badly. When Max heard that, she flew out of Sebastian's like a shot. She didn't even consider the fact that she has also been exposed to Diamond. All she could think about was Original Cindy.  
  
Max may be worried about Cindy, but I'm worried about Max. There is no way I'm going to endure a repeat of the last twenty-four hours, sitting in the dark, not knowing if she is dead or alive. The least I can do is to attempt to track her activities. At least I'll know where she is and if she gets into trouble, I might be able to offer some assistance.  
  
  
  
7:00 pm  
  
I just got the break I've been looking for.  
  
I spent the last two hours following Cindy and Diamond's trail. I didn't page Max because I knew that with Cindy's life on the line, she wouldn't bother to look for a payphone just to update me on the situation. So instead I called Jam Pony and between Normal and Herbal, got a semi- coherent story about Cindy and Diamond heading for Mexico on a bus. I downloaded the local Greyhound bus schedule and found a few buses that they could possibly be on. After one hundred years, that company is still plugging away, operating on a shoestring budget, running antique buses. I'm not surprised, though, that they survived. Since the pulse, other means of travel have become exorbitantly expensive. There were no buses heading directly for Mexico, but there were buses leaving for L.A. every hour between 4:00 and 6:00 pm. Diamond and Cindy could easily have been on any one of those.  
  
I just received a report over the informant net about several men in anti- contamination suits pulling over a bus about an hour outside of town and loading all the passengers into other vehicles. There was even a helicopter on site. This is it. Synthedine. I would never wish that company any success, but for all our sakes, I hope to God that they managed to get to Diamond and Cindy on time. In all likelihood, they have taken them back to Synthedine. From Max's description of the place, I am certain that they have the resources to contain Diamond's disease. I've tried to hack into Synthedine's system, but I haven't been able to confirm that Diamond and Cindy are in fact being held there. That facility is a lock box. I will continue trying to access their computer systems. Hopefully, I will be able to glean some additional information. Still, my biggest concern is that I have no clue where Max is.  
  
  
  
8:00 pm  
  
I was finally able to tap into Synthedine's maintenance system and monitor their environmental controls, electricity, heat, light, air circulation, and alarm system. Everything appeared to be running normally until a few minutes ago when an alarm was triggered in one sector of the facility. There is definitely something going on, but I have no way of knowing exactly what it is. Contamination, a drill, or Max? Despite my best efforts, I am back in the same place I was earlier today. I can do nothing more than worry and wait.  
  
  
  
9:00 pm  
  
Max finally called. She was able to get Cindy safely out of Synthedine. They are both okay. Thank God.  
  
Max told me she wanted to spend some time with Cindy, but she also assured me that she will drop by later tonight. After the events of today, I can't wait to see her. I need to see with my own two eyes that she is okay. 


	71. Th Mar 19, 2020 - Exposed (Shorties in ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Shorties in Love  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 71 – Thursday March 19, 2020 – Exposed (Shorties in Love)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Thursday March 19, 2020  
  
11:00 pm  
  
I feel embarrassed, vulnerable and completely exposed.  
  
I showed Max one of my poems tonight. I opened my book and revealed a part of myself I never thought I would.  
  
After a very tense day, I finally felt at peace, happy just to have Max sitting safely beside me in the warm glow of candlelight. We talked about Cindy and Diamond. The way Max described their relationship, I understood how much love they had for each other. It is such a tragedy that Cindy lost Diamond the way she did. I can imagine the grief that she must be feeling, especially since Diamond was her first love. I mentioned to Max the lasting effect a first love can have on a person.  
  
"I wouldn't know," Max responded with yearning in her voice. It made me realize that she hasn't had a 'first love' in her life. Then she quickly switched to a safer subject.  
  
"When do I get to scroll through your lyrical pen scratchings?" She asked lightheartedly as she reached for my notebook.  
  
Safer for whom? I could feel the panic rise up inside me.  
  
"Why do you always get so embarrassed about this?" She complained when I took the book away from her. I gave her a feeble excuse about being intimidated by my dad, but my explanation only prompted her to challenge me further.  
  
"Since when did Logan Cale, man of letters, speaker of truth, let the Fred Flintstones of this world get under his skin?"  
  
"Since I was three," was my too honest response, eliciting an exasperated moan from her. Take away Eyes Only and you will find a man who is easily intimidated by Fred Flintstones, fathers, uncles and beautiful transgenic soldiers. But Max's challenge was too good to pass up. Despite my fear, I wanted to share a poem with her. I wanted to show her more about how I feel. I quickly flipped through the pages. I knew exactly which poem I wanted her to see. I wrote it just five days ago. Those three lines say so much about how I feel about her.  
  
She grinned in anticipation, ready to laugh at my feeble 'poetic' efforts. But then she started to read and she stopped smiling. I searched her face, looking for some sign of what she felt. I can almost always tell how she feels about something. I can see it written all over her face, or I can at least find a clue in her eyes. But tonight, I couldn't find anything. Then for a moment, she looked like she was about to cry. She hates it, I told myself.  
  
"You wrote this about me?" She asked quietly.  
  
Of course it's about you, I thought. Who else would I write about? "It depends…" I began, I was going to be nonchalant with her. I had the words all planned out. If you like it, it's about you. If you don't, it's not. I was going to grin at her jokingly. But the words didn't come out that way at all.  
  
"Do you hate it?"  
  
What a stupid question. Do you hate it? You hate it, don't you? I almost put those words in her mouth. I desperately didn't want her to hate it. When she said it was all right, I felt like I had just received the greatest compliment in the world. It's all right!  
  
"Well then, yeah, it's about you."  
  
"Cool."  
  
Cool! I couldn't look at her any more. I knew that if she looked any closer, she would see right through me. I turned away for a moment and when I looked back, she was preparing to leave. She handed back the notebook and took off, saying she didn't want to miss the curfew.  
  
Then she left.  
  
She didn't say anything else. How could she leave without telling me what she was thinking? Maybe she didn't understand what I was trying to tell her. Maybe it wasn't as important to her as it was to me. I can't believe I showed it to her. Why did I choose that poem to show her? She's probably laughing at me right now, saying that she's nobody's angel. Not that any of the others would have been any better. They all reveal too much. Maybe I was hoping for some kind of answer from her today. Are you my angel? What a question to ask! How could I expect her to respond to that? I don't know whether I should laugh or cry. I can't even look at that page again. I can't keep driving myself crazy with all the unanswered questions. Maybe I should just burn this stupid book of mine. 


	72. Sat Mar 21, 2020 - Open (Shorties in Lov...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Shorties in Love - Pollo Loco  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 72 – Saturday March 21, 2020 – Open (Shorties in Love)  
  
  
  
Saturday March 21, 2020  
  
The last couple of days have been wonderful. Max has opened up to me more than ever before. I can't describe it, but she seems happier than ever to be with me, almost grateful. She is behaving like I have given her a wonderful gift that she never expected.  
  
It's in everything she does, in her tone of voice when we talk on the phone, in her happiness when she walks in the door, and in the absolutely contented look in her eyes when we are just sitting and talking about nothing at all. I feel her looking at me sometimes, and when I return her gaze, she doesn't lower her eyes or pretend she isn't watching me. She just smiles wider, as if just having me there pleases her. I don't know what it is specifically. I still behave the same way towards her. Yet it seems that she wants to spend every moment she can with me, that I am giving her something she can't find anywhere else.  
  
I really noticed the change yesterday. It was just another one of our longstanding Friday night dinner 'dates', but it didn't feel typical at all. She didn't even bother to hide the fact that she couldn't wait to come over. When she arrived a couple of hours later, she was full of enthusiasm and humor, telling me with amusement about her day. She gave me one of her beaming smiles. Then she got right to work, digging with gusto into the pasta that I had prepped for dinner. She barely said a word as she ate. She just smiled at me periodically as a comfortable silence settled between us. Then as we began clearing the table, Max wrapped her arms around me in a spontaneous hug. I was completely surprised. But I've learned a lot this year. I didn't let go or back off. I just wrapped my own arms around her and held on until she released her hold with a happy "Thanks Logan."  
  
"It was just dinner," I responded, completely confused at the seemingly uncalled for display of gratitude. I hadn't received a hug like that since I found Hannah for her.  
  
"Whatever," she replied with a shrug as she continued clearing away the dishes, but the look in her eye indicated that she was thanking me for more than just dinner or 'whatever'.  
  
This evening, she surprised me again. We were setting up the chessboard when, out of the blue, she blurted out "I like the poem."  
  
"Cool," I responded, trying hard not to reveal my surprise. I had somehow managed to push it out of my mind these last two days.  
  
"I hope you don't mind that I took it." She grinned mischievously, daring me to tell her that I did. She took it? I couldn't believe it! I was sitting right there and she ripped it out of my book without me noticing. But now that I think about it, I'm not all that surprised. I wasn't exactly the most focused person on Thursday night.  
  
"Whatever," I answered with a shrug. Logan Cale, the master of understatement.  
  
Max smiled happily at my response, then proceeded to whip my ass at chess once again. We didn't talk about the poem after that, but we could feel it there between us. It amazes me that those three simple lines have brought this on. It was just a stupid little poem. It barely described my feelings for her. It was little more than a hint. Yet, somehow, I think Max has managed to read between the lines, and what she has discovered there feeds and strengthens her. I have never seen her so contented and so centered. I have never seen her so open. It's almost as if, for the first time in her life, she feels loved. And she is loved, more than she will ever know. 


	73. Sun Mar 22, 2020 - Unwanted News (Pollo ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 73 – Sunday March 22, 2020 – Unwanted News (Pollo Loco)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Sunday March 22, 2020  
  
1:30pm  
  
I've spent an inordinate amount of time in the last nine months searching every database imaginable and talking to every conceivable contact, hoping to track down some definitive information on Max's siblings. Early on, I asked Beverly Shankar to search the medical examiner's archives for any bodies with barcode tattoos that may have been found in the last ten years. Beverly explained that although the national database was fragmented and incomplete, it was still a relatively good source of information on John Does. I was relieved, though, when despite her efforts, she came up empty handed. At least there was hope that all of Max's siblings were still alive. Max's contact with them is already so limited, so precarious. I never wanted to tell her that one of them had died before they even had a chance to reunite. But now it appears that is exactly what I must do.  
  
Beverly did not forget my request, so when a body with a barcode tattoo turned up yesterday, she thought of me. She fired off some morgue shots a few minutes ago. The tattoo on the body looks exactly like Max's, same location, twelve digits, unmistakably Manticore. This is one call I don't want to make. I wish I could protect Max from this news, but I suppose it was too much to expect that all of her siblings had survived.  
  
  
  
3:00pm  
  
Max came by and confirmed what I dreaded to tell her. That is her brother Ben's tattoo on my monitor.  
  
"It's Ben," Max whispered, instantly withdrawing into her grief.  
  
"When a soldier dies, you pay your respects," she said more to herself than to me. Her tone indicated she was right back at Manticore. I'm sure she didn't hear a word I said when I set up her appointment to view the body. She barely acknowledged me through her tears. Given what it takes to bring down an X5, I couldn't help repeating my worry mantra one more time.  
  
"Be careful," I pleaded, meaning it more than ever. She nodded her head absentmindedly, but her thoughts were already elsewhere. I hope to God that she is careful and that she will be okay.  
  
  
  
5:00pm  
  
I paged Max a few minutes ago to see how she was doing. She told me that Lydecker arrived at the morgue shortly after her and confiscated Ben's body. That man never wastes any time. It took a few quick moves on her part, but she was able to avoid him. At least she had a few minutes to say goodbye to Ben.  
  
I offered her my condolences, which she seemed to accept. I even offered to cook for her, hoping that I could be of some comfort. I was sure that she would have wanted to come over, if not for the food, then at least for some conversation, but she said she had something to do. She seems to be handling Ben's death better than I expected. Still, something doesn't feel right. Considering how open she has been with me lately, I'm surprised she didn't just tell me where she was heading. And there was something in her voice, a distracted quality. I almost missed it hiding behind that breezy tone she uses when she doesn't want to reveal anything. I haven't heard that tone in a long time. Why would she want to hide something from me now? Maybe she is not as okay as she is trying to appear. 


	74. Mon Mar 23, 2020 - What's Going On Here?...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 74 – Monday March 23, 2020 – What's going on here? (Pollo Loco)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
Monday March 23, 2020  
  
10:00am  
  
What's going on here?  
  
There's a second body, same M.O., identical barcodes. Beverly barely had time to take a couple of photos before Lydecker came in and confiscated this body as well. How could he possibly get there so quickly? It seems he was expecting it. Has he been through this before? I asked Bev to touch base with coroners in other cities to see what they could come up with. Maybe there's a pattern here that Lydecker recognizes. Maybe we will find some clues as to what is going on.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
11:00am  
  
Beverly found nine more bodies, two in Chicago, four in Miami and three in New York. In every case, Lydecker has shut down the investigation. This is insane. Who is doing this and why are they tattooing the victims with Ben's barcode? Max let me believe that the body she saw yesterday was Ben's. Given the facts, I doubt that it was. They can't all have been Ben. Were any of them? Is someone trying to hunt down Ben and these victims are a substitute? Why isn't Lydecker trying to stop him? What does Max know about this?  
  
  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
  
  
1:00pm  
  
I convinced Max to come by during her lunch hour and asked her about the second body. Even over the phone, I could tell that she was reluctant to come here, that she was holding something back. When she arrived, her reluctance became painfully obvious. She wouldn't even stand near me. It was almost as if she knew that whatever I had for her wouldn't be good.  
  
"Another body?" She asked, with a tone that suggested she was half expecting, half dreading this information. Why wasn't she more surprised? I pushed and prodded her for an explanation. How could there be two bodies with identical barcodes? They couldn't both be Ben. But I couldn't get any straight answers from her. She didn't know. She wasn't sure. Still, I never expected the answer that she finally gave me.  
  
"Ben killed those men, all right?" She said this with complete conviction. How could she know that?  
  
"I just do," she said, not offering anything more, but there was fear in her eyes as she said it.  
  
She knew and she lied to me. That's why she blew me off so easily yesterday, why she sounded more like she had just delivered a package than seen her dead brother's body. She was probably out there looking for Ben.  
  
I asked her why she lied and she replied that she didn't want people to know that her brother was a killer. But that's not it. She is acting like she wants to protect Ben even more than she wants to stop him. What is she hiding? How does she know that Ben is responsible for these killings? Is it something about the M.O.? Is it something about Ben? Or is it something about her? I don't understand why she is not talking to me. What has her so spooked? What doesn't she want me to see?  
  
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3:00pm  
  
Max ordered me to stay out of this, but if she thinks I'm going to just sit back and let this thing play itself out she doesn't know me very well. I don't care that she refused my help. If there's something I can do, I'm going to do it. Beverly just got back to me with the details of the killings. Maybe I can glean some additional clues from the profile.  
  
Bodies found in wooded areas.  
  
Males, ages twenty to thirty-five.  
  
Identical barcode tattoos, Ben's barcode. Why Ben's barcode?  
  
Necks snapped at second vertebrae. Bruising on neck indicates it was done with one hand. Indicative of an X5's strength.  
  
Abrasions to face and arms indicating victims were running fast through dense brush. Running for their lives?  
  
Victims' teeth were removed. A possible souvenir?  
  
Bodies were displayed in an open area, usually on a rock outcropping.  
  
Victims' left arms were broken at the elbow, dislocated at the shoulder and twisted behind the back. Done post mortem.  
  
Madonna medallion found on a chain around some victims' necks.  
  
Other bodies, including the first one found in Seattle, had a distinct mark on their necks, as if the chain had been forcefully torn off during the hunt.  
  
The hunt? He's hunting people? Is that what Ben's doing, selecting his victims, marking them (the tattoos, the medallions), then releasing them into the woods only to hunt them down? And Max is out there in the middle of it. Why is Ben acting out this insane murder ritual? Why does Max seem to recognize it?  
  
What's going on here? 


	75. Tues, Mar 24, 2020 - Seeds of Doubt (Pol...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 75 – Tuesday March 24, 2020 – Seeds of Doubt (Pollo Loco)  
  
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Tuesday March 24, 2020  
  
10:00am  
  
Max didn't go home last night or show up for work this morning. I made the usual round of calls to Cindy and Jam Pony, but all I succeeded in doing was irritating Max's boss and worrying her best friend. I tried to calm Cindy's fears, but I doubt I was able to hide the concern in my own voice. This time, we all have reason to worry.  
  
Max is out there trying to stop a serial killer and, once again, I have no idea where she is. Bling tried to reassure me that she can take care of herself, but I've seen the way she responds to her family. This is the one circumstance where I doubt that she can take care of herself. Her brother, Ben, is out there killing people, and if she gets in his way, I know that her life is at risk. Even though it is what she wants, she isn't going to be able to handle this on her own. She will hesitate to act because he is her brother, but he will not hesitate. His limits have already been breached. He won't have any qualms about killing Max or anyone else if he is threatened.  
  
Max insisted that I back off, but how can I? I can't let Max face Ben alone. Neither can I let him go on killing. There is no way this guy is going to stop on his own. I have to do something and I have to do it fast. Despite the risks, my best option is to contact Lydecker. He has been involved with this since the first body turned up in Chicago and will know more than anyone what is going on. The one thing I don't understand is why he has been shutting down the investigations. Ben presents an enormous risk of exposure to the whole Manticore project. Lydecker should be extremely motivated to get him off the streets as soon as possible. I've already asked Sebastian to track him down. Maybe some pressure from Eyes Only will motivate him to put an end to this.  
  
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10:00pm  
  
I have to hand it to Lydecker. He can turn almost any situation to his advantage. I talked to him tonight and he acted as if our meeting was his opportunity to do a little speculating about my 'relationship' with Max. I know that he doesn't have a factual base for his assumptions, that most of what he said was conjecture on his part. But still, he came much closer to the truth than I would ever have expected or would have wanted to acknowledge. And he didn't stop there. He took the things I appreciate the most about Max, her kindness, her compassion, even her undeniable beauty, and managed to twist them into an unsettling picture.  
  
"You think this is all some kind of a joke? That these kids are like puppies that you can bring home and housebreak?" Lydecker said, suggesting that I was a fool to think that Max could change. I'm not sure how he realized this, but he tapped into exactly how I felt about Max when I first met her. I thought I could show her that there was more to life than just self-preservation, that there was a much bigger world out there. I was sure that with some encouragement, she would discover many wonderful qualities in herself that she didn't realize she possessed. And I thought that I had succeeded. She has grown in awareness and understanding every day. I have seen enormous amounts of compassion in her. Yet, Lydecker seems to think that with the right trigger, all of the things that Max has worked so hard for will just disappear, and she will revert back to her design and training. He believes that she can never be anything more than the killer she was designed to be.  
  
"You think that because she is so pretty, she's not dangerous," he continued, as if Max's beauty is a lie. I understand that Manticore would design its soldiers to be physically attractive. It would be especially effective for the women working undercover operations. But I've always felt that Max's beauty was more than just a result of gene sequencing, that it was something that came from deep within her. Now he is trying to tell me that it is just a mask, that she is hiding her true nature.  
  
The disconcerting thing, though, is that Lydecker actually seems to believe what he said, that the X5s were designed to kill coldly, efficiently and happily, as he put it. I have no doubt that the X5s can kill efficiently. Zack had no qualms killing Vogelsang when he posed a threat. But even Zack, with his intense anger and obsessive over-protectiveness of the X5s, has never shown an indiscriminate love of killing. What Ben is doing is completely different. It is irrational and insane. Lydecker seems to think that all the X5s are capable of becoming like Ben. How could it be true? Max has never exhibited the type of behavior he is suggesting. On the contrary, she has always shied away from it. She is afraid of guns, for goodness sake! I don't care what her brother, Ben, may have done. Max is not a person that would kill 'happily'.  
  
I know Lydecker was hoping to cast some seeds of doubt. I'm not even sure what he expected me to believe. I have no reason to trust him. Still, he insisted that I have no idea of what Max is capable of. Well, he won't change my perception of her so easily. Does he think I will just give up on the Max that I know? Was he hoping that he could maneuver me into providing some information on her? Does he think that I will allow Ben to go on killing just because I care about Max? Does he think I won't expose him if he doesn't do something to stop Ben? If he does, he has no idea what I am capable of. 


	76. Wed, Mar 25, 2020 - Photos (Pollo Loco)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco, I & I Camera  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at [1]afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 76 - Wednesday March 25, 2020 - Photos (Pollo Loco)  
  
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10:00am  
  
Bev called. They found magnesium nitrate in the victim's fingernail scrapings. There's an abandoned fertilizer factory south of town. That may be where Ben kept his victims. Lydecker seems to think so. He took off the moment the results came in. If Max ended up there, I hope to God that she gets out before Lydecker arrives. I wish there was a way I could warn her, but she hasn't responded to my pages in forty-eight hours. The truth is, I have no clue where she is or even if she has managed to track down Ben. I don't even know if she is dead or alive.  
  
Max has successfully frozen me out of this search. I still don't understand why she is not responding to me. She should know by now that she doesn't need to protect me. She was happy to have my help with Zack, Brin and Tinga, but she is determined that I have nothing to do with Ben. Lydecker tried so hard yesterday to make me doubt Max, but the truth is, she is the only one who can do that. And I have to admit that for the first time since I met her, she is succeeding. It was bad enough that she lied to me about the body in the morgue. It's even worse, not knowing what is going on. How can I trust her when she doesn't trust me?  
  
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6:00pm  
  
Max came in earlier this afternoon looking like she had been in a fight.  
  
"I need a shower," was all she said.  
  
I was about to ask if she was okay, but her expression said `don't talk to me.' I have never seen her so emotionally drained or so weary. She obviously needed some time alone, so I pulled a bathrobe and a few clean towels out of the linen closet and led her to the bathroom. I had barely opened the door when Max was already stripping off her clothes. She didn't care in the least that I was there. Her whole focus was on getting those clothes off as fast as possible. It seemed like she couldn't bear to wear them for another minute. I left the towels by the door and turned to leave to the sound of the shower door slamming shut and the water running. I did my best to give Max the space she needed, but with the water still running an hour later, I felt compelled to check on her.  
  
"Max?" I asked, tentatively knocking on the door, afraid to disturb her, but also afraid that something could be seriously wrong.  
  
"Just trying to get clean," she replied, but she didn't offer anything else.  
  
I left her alone after that. Thirty minutes later, she finally came out, wrapped in the bathrobe. She went directly to the window to stare at the rain pouring relentlessly down the windowpanes. She pulled the robe more tightly around herself, as if she couldn't get warm.  
  
"Can I get you some clothes?" I offered.  
  
"No thanks," she said quietly, her eyes never leaving the window.  
  
She's been standing there for two hours now. I pulled out a book a while ago, but I've barely glanced at it. I feel like I can't move either. I don't know what to do. I don't know how I can help her.  
  
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11:30pm  
  
I've been sitting here for hours watching Max. She has barely moved. She is still staring out the window at the rain. It is obvious that neither of us is going to sleep tonight. I don't know why I gave her a red robe to wear. It seems to mock the bleakness in her expression. Every so often, she turns around and looks at me, but her face is a blank and so are her eyes. They have always revealed her inner feelings, but tonight, they are completely closed. She is revealing nothing. I have never seen that barrier before, complete and impenetrable.  
  
I managed to pull myself away long enough to retrieve Max's clothes from the bathroom floor. She has used the bathroom many times in the past and has always been meticulous about picking up after herself. "Don't want to spoil the pristine Chez Cale atmosphere," she kidded me once about my neatness. But today, her clothes were still in a heap outside the shower door. The way she acted, it seemed that the last thing she wanted to do was touch them again. Before tossing them in the wash, I picked out the bark and twigs that I found embedded in the fabric. She has definitely been in the forest. Probably fighting Ben. I wonder if she killed him. Whether she tells me or not, I'll know for sure if and when the bodies stop appearing.  
  
A couple of hours ago, Lydecker's photos arrived. That was the moment that Max finally decided to say something. I had barely pulled the photos out of their envelope when she walked up behind me, but it was long enough for me to realize what I was seeing. The man in the photos was dead and Max's X5 group was obviously responsible. I instinctively pushed them back in, knowing that she would never want to see them, to see herself with blood on her face, a dead body at her feet and nothing in her eyes.  
  
Max apologized for shutting me out and thanked me for not questioning her. I told her it was no problem, but I lied, too. She doesn't know the photos exist, and she has no idea how many questions they bring up. Just because I haven't asked them, doesn't mean I don't have them. Everything in the photos matches the details of the current murders, the setting in the forest, the body displayed on the rock, the arm broken and dislocated. Now I know what Ben was doing. He was recreating that old murder, the hunt, the capture and the killing. And I know why Max was so sure that Ben killed those men. She was there. She participated in that first killing and knew exactly what happened and why. None of this is new to her.  
  
I hate those photos, I hate looking at them, but I still keep turning back to them. I can't forget the eyes, those absolutely remorseless eyes. Every single one of the children in the photos has them, Max, Zack, and the others whose names I don't even know. I keep looking at them, standing there with blood on their faces, as if they had done nothing more than complete a training exercise. That is exactly what it was to them, a training exercise, an exercise in murder. I used to kid Max about being a genetically enhanced killing machine, now I've realized that this is not a laughing matter. When I look at those photos, I can't get Lydecker's words out of my head...they were designed to kill. Is Lydecker right? Are they so damaged and twisted by their upbringing that they will never have a hope of a normal life? Have I been deceiving myself about Max? Is she destined for a bleak and soulless existence?  
  
References  
  
1. mailto:afanofda@yahoo.com 


	77. Sun Mar 29, 2020 - She Seems Fine (I & I...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco, I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 77– Sunday March 29, 2020 – She seems fine (Pollo Loco - I & I Am A Camera)  
  
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Max got dressed quickly Thursday morning, showing none of the previous day's revulsion for her clothes. She willingly ate the breakfast I made for her and went to work as if it was any other day. She didn't say much, but she seemed fine. She has been unusually quiet the last few days, but now she is back to her old self, aggressive, sarcastic and full of energy.  
  
She called to say she's going to Crash tonight with the guys from work. She even invited me. When I told her I had work to do, it didn't faze her in the least. She just laughed it off with a crack about no rest for the General of the Logan Cale Brigade. This was the one time that my past history of refusing her invitations to Crash paid off. I'm glad that she didn't push the subject. There was no way I could have gone out with her and pretended that everything was fine, that everything was normal.  
  
I'm relieved that she's not coming here tonight. I'm not sure what I would do or say. I used to live for the days when she would invite herself over. Now I find myself pulling way. I thought I really knew her. I thought I understood what I was getting into with her, but since Lydecker's photos arrived, I haven't been sure about anything.  
  
There haven't been any more killings. Ben has either moved on or he has been stopped. I doubt that he is in another city, though. If he had moved, Max wouldn't be here. She would have followed him. I think he is dead. It's been several days, but Max is not forthcoming with any details, and I will never ask her that question. 'Did you kill your brother?' Some questions are best left unasked and unanswered.  
  
I know why Lydecker sent me the photos. I know what he was trying to do, and I have to admit, he has succeeded. Those photos haunt me. Even though I will never ask Max, I can't ignore the questions they bring up. Each time I look at them, I ask myself who the real Max is. Is she still that nine-year old soldier that can kill without remorse? Or is she the caring and compassionate woman that I thought I knew? How can she kill her brother and then go out drinking with her buddies a couple of days later? How can she set his death aside so easily and be as happy as ever? Max seems fine, but I'm not sure any more. Is she? 


	78. Mon Mar 30, 2020 - Perspective (I & I am...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco, I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this mammoth project. Your endurance and encouragement is greatly appreciated. I know these chapters haven't been coming as fast as any of us would like, sadly work and family and all those normal life things often encroach upon art. One thing you can be sure of though is that Season 1 will be completed in the next few weeks. If you would like to know when the next chapters are up just leave a note in the box below and I'll give you a heads up the next time I post.  
  
A/N: Special thanks to my beta Zanna who has put an enormous amount of time into this project. I'm grateful to have her.  
  
Chapter 78 – Monday March 30, 2020 – Perspective (I & I Am A Camera)  
  
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4:00pm  
  
Max called an hour ago sounding pretty upset. She just learned that an acquaintance of hers was found dead today.  
  
"Got out of lockup a couple of days ago," she said. "Herbal was hoping to find him some work at Jam Pony. We spent most of the afternoon convincing Normal that he needed another rider. Guess it doesn't matter anymore…" Her voice drifted off then came back with renewed determination. "Herbal hasn't been able to get any info from the police. Name was Gerald Wills. Think you could find out what happened?" She paused hesitatingly. "As a favor…you know…for Herbal."  
  
'No problem." I promised her.  
  
"I just met him yesterday. Now he's dead." She said sadly. "Thanks for doing this, Logan."  
  
I've spent the last hour trying to get some more information on the shooting, but with the constant brownouts we've been having, I haven't been able to get much. I was able to dump a list of similar deaths in the last few days. Six parolees, all recently released, all killed by multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, no witnesses, no leads, nothing. Seems our local law and order types have decided to keep a few cons off the streets permanently.  
  
Max seems really upset by this. I could sense her grief even over the phone. Hopefully, I'll be able to find something to give her some closure.  
  
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6:00pm  
  
Max came by after work to review the details of Gerald's murder with me. I wasn't able to get any additional information online, so she is off retrieving some data disks from Corrections 'the old fashioned way', as she put it. Her sense of humor never seems to fail her. For a few minutes, things felt normal again. It was so easy to fall into our usual pattern of bantering. But then Max asked me to have dinner with her afterwards.  
  
Her invitation, coming so innocently out of her mouth, was enough to send me into a tailspin. I have no problems helping her with this case, or even working with her, but the moment she reaches out on a personal level, all my fears and questions come back. So I put her off once again.  
  
Max sensed my reluctance. She even asked me if I was okay. I told her I had a lot on my mind, which she seemed to accept. I doubt that I could truly explain, though, what is really going on with me. Why can't I reconcile the person I see in front of me with the photos sitting on my desk? Max's grief over Gerald's death and her empathy for Herbal's loss are perfectly appropriate, not cold at all. So is her desire to find some justice for Gerald. Why can't I accept her behavior at face value? Why do those photos frighten me so much?  
  
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4:30am  
  
"If he gives me any trouble, I'll kill him," Max casually reassured me last night in response to my concern about her apparent stalker. She made it sound like he was nothing more than an ant that she could easily crush under her shoe. Considering everything that has been going on in my head lately, it was the last thing I needed to hear.  
  
'Don't say that!' I wanted to shout at her. 'Don't say it so nonchalantly, so easily, so happily. Don't tell me that you are exactly what Lydecker said you are.'  
  
I wanted to grab her and shake her and make her understand what she was saying. I wanted her to reassure me that she didn't mean it, that it was just a figure of speech. But I didn't do anything. I just sat there, speechless, and let her go on her way, oblivious to how unnerved I was by what had just come out of her mouth. How could she appear to grieve the death of her co-worker's friend, a person she barely knew, and then in almost the same breath, casually say she will kill someone when she's not even sure that he is a threat to her? I don't want to know that Max could kill without remorse. I don't want her to even hint at it.  
  
But it only took a few words from my beloved Uncle Jonas to knock some perspective into me.  
  
"I'm sure you can see the class struggle clearly from that penthouse of yours," Jonas said casually as I tucked my trust check into my pocket. He could always see the worst in me and point it out with perfect precision and eloquence.  
  
'Don't say that!' I wanted to shout at him. 'Don't say it so nonchalantly, so easily, so happily. Don't tell me that I am exactly like you.' I wanted to defend myself, but I knew I couldn't because he was absolutely right. So instead, I gave him a stupid little laugh, downed my martini and got out of there as fast as I could. Even though I don't like hearing it, I have to thank him for never letting me forget for a minute what his business does, or where my livelihood comes from. No wonder he has always been able to intimidate me and make me feel worthless. He is the one person that knows the secret of what I really am. He knows that I haven't really let go of his world, that I care more for the security that money gives me than the principles that I profess to believe in. He knows that I am a hypocrite. It is the one part of myself that I don't want to see. When I'm immersed in my work, I can forget it for a while, but whenever I return to Jonas' world, it hits me square in the face.  
  
I've spent most of the night trying to track down some clues regarding the dead ex-cons, but I've come up with nothing. Now it appears that Max's stalker is the killer. She's out there trying to stop him from taking out the next person on his hit list. She called a few minutes ago, looking for the target's address, and when I gave it to her, she took off so quickly she didn't even bother to hang up. It's ironic, I spend my time questioning Max's motivation while she spends her time trying to save people's lives.  
  
I've come to realize that Max and I have been doing the same thing. We have both been trying to run away from what we don't like in ourselves. While Max may not be blameless, I'm not nearly as virtuous as I would like to think. Maybe that is why Max lied to me, why she froze me out of the search for Ben. Maybe she didn't want me to see the darkness she carries with her. Maybe she was afraid to acknowledge it. Maybe she was hoping that she could put it behind her and start a new life, a better life. I can't blame her for that, and I certainly can't judge her for it.  
  
  
  
A/N: A request (thanks to Willow for the idea). If you've been reading, but don't usually review I'd appreciate it if you could drop your initials in the box below and maybe a letter grade to go with it to give me a sense of who's out there and how you think I'm doing. 


	79. Tues Mar 31, 2020 - Appearances (I and I...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 79 – Tuesday March 31, 2020– Appearances (I & I Am A Camera)  
  
2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
Tuesday March 31, 2020  
  
8:00am  
  
Appearances can be so deceiving. Max and our vigilante returned just after sunrise with a completely unexpected report. It turns out that he is not the killer after all. In fact, it was a hoverdrone that killed those ex- cons. The surveillance tool that our government promoted as the 'protector' of the public and a preventative of crime has become a murder weapon. In this twisted world of ours, nothing is what it appears to be. And it turns out that our vigilante friend is not exactly what he appears to be either.  
  
"What does the chair do? Or are your powers mostly mental?" He asked with total sincerity, suggesting that I might have machine gun turrets secretly mounted inside the wheel rims of my chair. I'm afraid that when I ordered the chair with the turbo thrusters, I neglected to request the gun turrets as well. Hearing that comment in all its seriousness, I could barely keep myself from laughing out loud. Then he called Max a mutant. He called us the brains and the brawn. I'm not sure Max and I would normally appreciate those descriptions of our 'strengths'. But how can you be offended by a man- child who considers you a fellow comic book hero? How can you be anything but amused by man who sits at your table eating milk and cookies, and talks about threats from another dimension, and who obviously has 'special powers' of his own?  
  
Our friend's exoskeleton is very intriguing. He said it functions by relaying nerve impulses from the spinal cord to the cervomotors, increasing speed and strength by as much as thirty percent. But if Max's description of the ten-foot fence he jumped last night is accurate, the correct number is probably one hundred and thirty percent. If I can find or design an exoskeleton so that the original contact point is above my injury site, it might work for me. My nerve impulses are intact. And the receptors in my legs are all still in place, just waiting for the impulses to arrive. All I need is something to bypass the lesion in my spinal cord. The exoskeleton appears to do just that. It transmits the nerve impulses to the cervomotors affecting the major muscle groups. I could conceivably have an increase in strength as well. That is remarkable. But even if I could only stand up or walk, forget running or jumping or superhero tricks, it would still be a miracle. Once I've relayed our latest piece of hoverdrone news to Jonas, I'm going to put my head together with Sebastian's and see what we can come up with. This has enormous potential.  
  
Jonas should be up by now, starting his day with a Bloody Mary for breakfast. Since the day I moved in with him and Margo, it's been his usual cure for the perpetual hangover that he wakes up with. I always appreciated bringing him his first Bloody Mary each morning before heading off to school. I spent as little time as possible at 'home' back then and I still avoid going back there now. I'm going to pass on the news and get out of there as fast as possible. Two visits in two days is are enough to last me another six months.  
  
  
  
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10:00am  
  
Jonas was as happy to see me this morning as I was to see him. He didn't even bother to hide his barbs behind comments about the 'class struggle'. He came right out and said it.  
  
"You publish some half-assed yarn, it's going to drive away business. And take a chunk out of your bottom line, too, let's not forget."  
  
I thought I was somehow divorced from Jonas. My income came from the family trust, which my parents set up years before Cale Industries adopted hoverdrone technology. Things may have been different when my parents ran the company and administered the trust, but I can't deny how they are now. I didn't protest when Jonas became the trust administrator, so I tacitly allowed him to make investment decisions on my behalf. I can no longer deny the fact that the trust is heavily invested in Cale Industries, and therefore, so am I.  
  
Sometimes, I think I am no better than Bruno Anselmo. He thought he could make up for years of murder by committing one final good deed. At times, I think that is what I am doing with Eyes Only, using it as some sort of atonement for living off the proceeds of police oppression. But I know I can't make up for it by periodically exposing a few corrupt officials and businessmen. In reality, I am far worse than Bruno because I know better. He was only concerned about himself and never claimed otherwise. I know that a higher law exists and I have professed to live it. But in reality, I haven't. I've spent so much time in the past year equating my worth with the ability to walk, but I was way off base. The true test of my worth is not my physical strength, but my integrity. 


	80. Tues mar 31, 2020 - Grief ( I & I am a C...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 80 – Tuesday March 31, 2020– Grief (I & I Am A Camera)  
  
2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
March 14, 2005  
  
  
  
It's been a year and a half since we buried Mom. I moved in with Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margo the day after the funeral. They said it was inappropriate for a child to live by himself, even with a household full of servants. They said I needed to be around my family. They said I shouldn't be alone. But I am alone. I am as alone now as I was the day I swept the hair away from Mom's already cold cheek for the last time.  
  
  
  
I left everything behind except for my clothes, Dad's books, and Mom's photo albums. With Mom and Dad gone, there was nothing left in our house that I wanted, nothing except for Mom's locket. But it's not there anymore. Aunt Margo has it. She wore it for the first time at my fifteenth birthday party. When I asked her where she got it, she told me that Mom had given it to her, and the look in her eyes dared me to contradict her. I didn't.  
  
  
  
They bought me a Jag for my fifteenth birthday. Mom had only been dead for a couple of months and they bought me a Jag. I wasn't even old enough to get my license, so it sat in the garage for a year, but at least I could tell my 'friends' that I owned a Jag. Appearances are everything.  
  
  
  
Aunt Margo gave me a suite of my own, in this impersonal mansion that masquerades as my uncle's house. What do I need a suite for? To 'entertain' my guests? I never bring my friends here. I soon learned that I was given the suite for a reason. They aren't prepared to accept another 'child' into their family, and aside from obligatory appearances at predetermined times, they prefer that I stay invisible. I have no idea why they insisted I move in with them. Maybe it was from some sense of duty or, more likely, a desire to maintain appearances. The caring aunt and uncle take in their poor orphaned nephew. They are masters at maintaining appearances.  
  
  
  
We have the perfect household with perfect children. You would never know that there were four boys in this house. The silence is deafening. No wonder Bennett spent so much time with Mom and Dad and I. He had to get away from this place for a while. I'm surprised that Bennett and his brothers aren't nuts. I guess the fact that they spend more time with the Nanny than with their parents is a good thing. Bennett is such a great kid. All three of them are. Bennett and I had so much fun together in the old days. He would copy everything I did. He even told me straight out, "I wish I were you, Logan." He's thirteen now, but he still acts like I'm his idol. He doesn't realize that I wouldn't wish my life on anyone. I am grateful to have him, though. If it wasn't for him and Mike and Joe, I would have walked out the door long ago and never looked back.  
  
  
  
Jonas said I needed a guardian, but I'm beginning to feel more and more like I'm the guardian. I find myself wanting to protect Bennett and his brothers. I do my best to steer them clear of Margo and Jonas. There's no way I want any of them sharing a martini evening with Jonas. So far, I've managed to deflect Jonas' attention away from them and onto me. One thing I know for sure, better me than them.  
  
  
  
I made the mistake early on of telling Uncle Jonas that I liked english and history.  
  
  
  
"Why are you studying history? Focus on math and science. Technology is where it's at. If you're going to take over the business, you need to understand that and forget those soft classes."  
  
  
  
That's when our career planning sessions began. Jonas insists that I meet him in the study every day after his drinking buddies leave. He calls them our accountability sessions, but I call them the 'Lets Tell Logan How Much He's Screwing Up' sessions. With his usual martini in hand, Uncle Jonas talks about his plans for me, about how he will groom me to take over Cale Industries some day.  
  
  
  
"Junior, we can't have the future president of Cale Industries pulling anything other than straight A's. And we can't have you playing too much basketball, wasting your evenings and weekends on the court. It's never going to be your career." He doesn't care that I have a good chance at winning a scholarship. It's not like I'll ever need one.  
  
  
  
"Junior, we can't have you hiding for hours in your room, writing God knows what. You should be out socializing, making contacts, and not with your basketball buddies. They aren't going anywhere. You should let your aunt introduce you to some fine young men, men you can learn something from." Sons of Uncle Jonas' business associates, of course.  
  
  
  
"By the way, where were you at the last dinner party? I wanted to introduce you to some potential clients. It's never too early to establish contacts. When will you get a sense of responsibility?"  
  
  
  
I can hear the intro now.  
  
  
  
"Joe, I'd like to introduce you to Junior, my brother Logan's son, the irresponsible one."  
  
  
  
Uncle Jonas has never once used my name in the course of a regular conversation. He is polite to a fault, but when he calls me Junior, I know that I am not measuring up to his standards. Then there are the nights, after he's polished off five or ten Martinis, when he does use my name. Those are the nights I wish I never heard my name again.  
  
  
  
"Logan, I don't know why your father decided to give you his name. You are nothing like him. I doubt that you will ever be able to fill his shoes." Despite the alcohol, or maybe because of it, it's during these times that I know he isn't hiding how he feels. I want to tell him to shut up, but I never do. I just sit there, accepting one demeaning comment after another, while he drinks his way into an alcoholic oblivion.  
  
  
  
The next morning when I deliver him his pitcher of Bloody Mary, it's like it never happened. "Good morning, Junior. I trust you slept well." He says with his perfectly modulated voice, the previous night completely forgotten.  
  
  
  
I've tried my best to please Uncle Jonas. I let Aunt Margo introduce me to those 'fine young men', and he was right. I learned a lot from them, mostly about fast cars and girls. I learned that if you want to maintain your status, then the appropriate vehicle is a necessity. If you want to catch a girl, just drive the right car, push the right buttons, turn on the charm, and she's yours. I've certainly perfected that in the past year.  
  
  
  
I even took Uncle Jonas' advice and loaded up on math, physics and computer science this semester. I've only got one soft course left on my schedule, English, and that one's there only because it's mandatory. Science is fascinating, I'm pulling A's, but I can't help feeling that I've somehow made the wrong decision. My English instructor says I've got a talent for writing. He thinks I should be writing for the school paper. He even suggested that I consider studying journalism in college. That would go over like a lead balloon with Uncle Jonas. I can hear him now. 'Muckraking is not an appropriate career for a Cale.' How am I supposed to make these decisions? Sometimes, I feel like I'm losing the person that I'm supposed to be. I'm trying so hard to please Uncle Jonas, but I can never get it right. I'm either doing too much or not enough. I feel like my priorities are all screwed up. I have no idea what is right anymore. I'm finding it hard to believe that Mom and Dad were ever proud of me. How could I have made them proud when I'm not even sure what they saw in me? I wish I could talk to them for even a few minutes.  
  
  
  
Uncle Jonas would tell me that I have everything I could ever want, good looks, charm, the fastest car in the neighborhood, a beautiful girl to party with, and three more lined up waiting their turn. And don't forget the family business that brings in more money than I can ever use. Maybe Uncle Jonas is right. Maybe I don't have anything more to give to the world. But I can certainly make what I've got seem like enough. I've also become a master at maintaining appearances. I'm always happy. I'm always enthusiastic. Everything is perfect in my life.  
  
  
  
Why would Mom say that the universe is right on schedule? What's right on schedule about losing your Dad before you even got a chance to know him? What's right on schedule about losing your Mom at fourteen? What's right on schedule about living in a household brimming with false affection? My friends think it's cool that no one's on my back to finish my homework or keep a curfew. But they have no idea what they have. I would gladly give up the cars and the girls and the partying if I could have Mom back for just one more day.  
  
  
  
I shouldn't be wasting my time wishing for a family, hoping that by some miracle I'll get my parents back, or that somehow my aunt and uncle will begin to love me. I should know by now that things don't turn out the way you want them to. I just have to deal with the consequences and move on. But I just can't shake the feeling that this can't be all there is. There has to be more to life. There just has to be.  
  
  
  
Logan Cale  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I wrote that fifteen years ago. So much has changed since then, but I realize I haven't changed that much. I'm still essentially the same kid, trying to find some meaning in my life and wishing for the family I can't have. Now more than ever, I know that won't happen. Jonas is dead, killed by his own partners. Matt called with the news a few minutes ago. I have a load of consequences to deal with and I can't help but wish that things had turned out differently. I wish I were different. I wish Jonas had been different. I wish we hadn't ruined our family. I wish that I still had my parents. I wish that, for once, bad things didn't happen.  
  
  
  
A/N Special thanks to Kyre for a long forgotten conversation that planted the seeds for this chapter and to my husband who let me chew his ear off about it until the inspiration came. 


	81. Tue Mar 31, 2020 - Anger (I and I am a C...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 81 – Tuesday March 31, 2020 – Anger (I & I Am A Camera)  
  
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9:00pm  
  
The frantic calls have been coming in all night.  
  
"Who could have done this? Who would want to kill my husband? He's never done anything wrong. It doesn't make any sense." Aunt Margo kept repeating with an edge of hysteria in her voice. She came home this afternoon and found her dead husband's body. She couldn't understand it. The police had been to the house, but they wouldn't tell her anything. I didn't know what to tell her. Despite our differences, Jonas was my family too. I never wanted to see him dead.  
  
Bennett's call a few minutes later was more of the same. Neither he nor his brothers could fathom this. I couldn't tell them that Jonas had almost gotten me killed. I couldn't bring myself to tell any of them what happened. How do you tell your aunt and your cousin their husband and father was a murderer? Telling them that now would only add insult to their grief. In any case, they will learn the truth soon enough. No matter how I feel about Aunt Margo, she doesn't deserve this. Neither does Bennett. They too, were deceived. They had no clue that the man who professed to love them was not what he appeared to be.  
  
Jonas fooled us all. To the world, he appeared to be the responsible corporate citizen with the winning smile, whose company was founded on the premise that hoverdrones protect people. He was my 'father' for over half my life. I spent years trying to please him, but I eventually learned that he would never approve of his black sheep nephew. It took me a long time to realize that he was a selfish man that only cared about the money he could make. It took me even longer to emotionally separate myself from him, though I never completely succeeded at doing that. But even I didn't understand Jonas' true nature. I never thought he was capable of murder. Today I learned he was capable of much more than I ever would have suspected. I didn't know that people meant nothing to him, that an ex-con was nothing more than a lab rat. I didn't know that behind that smooth, socially acceptable persona, he had gone straight for the heart of darkness.  
  
This was the man I called 'Uncle', the man that I had allowed to intimidate me into believing that I was somehow inferior to him because I wasn't driven to make a profit. This was the man that made me feel like a failure for not fitting into his view of how the world should be. This was the man that professed to know what was best for me. This was the man that I was never good enough for. This was my uncle, the cold-blooded killer.  
  
My lessons have been coming hard and fast lately. I never thought Eyes Only would be exposing the Cales as the bad guys of the week. And I certainly never expected to be placed in the same position with my Uncle Jonas as Max was placed in with Ben. In fact, my situation is much worse. Unlike Ben, Jonas had no excuses for his behavior. He wasn't bred and trained to be a killer, and yet he made a conscious decision to kill. Now I know exactly what Max meant when she asked me that question a week ago. 'If your brother was a murderer, would you want people to know?' I couldn't comprehend it then, but now it makes complete sense. 'If your uncle was a murderer, would you want people to know?' I've been asking myself that over and over again.  
  
I would dearly love to bury this thing and make it disappear forever, but I know I can't. There is too much at stake. This morning, I was concerned about being dependent on a company that I was philosophically opposed to, but now things have progressed far beyond the philosophical level. Cale Industries is involved in murder. Now I must act.  
  
I know everyone in my family will take a financial and emotional hit. We all have some personal resources, so we will survive, but thanks to Jonas, life will never be the same for the Cales. Bennett and Marianne just returned from their honeymoon. Well, the honeymoon is over for all of us.  
  
Max thinks I'm doing this to prove that I am not just a 'bored rich liberal white guy', as she put it. She even asked me about Eyes Only and how I would keep it afloat.  
  
"Somehow," I said.  
  
That was the best I answer I could give her. At this point, I have no idea how I am going to continue Eyes Only, and that does scare me. I only have so much art that I can sell. I don't know how long I can keep going without an alternative income source or if I can even find a viable source. My broadcast tomorrow may lead to the eventual demise of Eyes Only, but if I do nothing, I will have buried it just as effectively. I will have destroyed every shred of integrity in myself and dismantled the foundation Eyes Only was built on. Even if people never found out, I would still know. I would be the same as Jonas and Bruno and all the others that profit by spilling blood. This is the true test of my principles. It's as simple as that. 


	82. Wed April 1, 2020 - Moves (I and I am a ...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 82 – Wednesday April 1, 2020 – Moves (I & I Am A Camera)  
  
2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------  
  
Wednesday April 1, 2020  
  
3:30pm  
  
Max told me today that she does struggle with the darkness from her past. As she was heading out the door for Snuffy's memorial, she paused for a moment and admitted it. She described it as being right on her tail. Though my life can't begin to compare with hers, in a way, I can understand how she feels. We all have demons of one form or another that haunt us. The darkness has certainly chased me this year, too. I wanted to encourage her so I told her lightheartedly that she had moves. The change in her posture when I said that suggested that maybe I succeeded. My comment may have appeared humorous at the time, but in truth, I was being completely serious.  
  
I'm only now beginning to get a sense of who Max truly is. When I first met her, she appeared to be a self-serving bicycle messenger and cat- burglar, who cased out her client's offices by day and robbed them by night. Yet even on that first night, there was something about her that completely fascinated me, besides the fact that she flew out my window and landed on her feet several stories below. One moment, she could be the carefree party girl who liked to go drinking with her friends, and the next, she could be the coldhearted X5 soldier, tough, strong and militaristic, who could handle herself unemotionally and efficiently in any situation. But I quickly learned that there was much more to Max than what I saw on the surface. She has depths of humor, caring and passion that I am only beginning to see. She has touched me more deeply than I ever expected.  
  
The last few days have given me a much better understanding of what Max has had to overcome. She was raised in a world of darkness, but she has worked hard to set aside the horror of her upbringing and has tried to live a normal life. Even after everything she has experienced, she still hopes for the better, for herself and for those she cares about. That is one of her most human qualities. It's not surprising that the darkness chases her at times. She couldn't have gone through so much torture in her life and not experience it, but unlike Ben, she hasn't allowed it to overwhelm her. That is more than many of us can do. She truly does have moves.  
  
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5:00pm  
  
I shredded my final trust check this afternoon, along with those awful pictures of Max. And I made my broadcast this morning. Those two simple acts were a turning point for me. Others may think what I did was self destructive, but it is just the opposite. It is the symbol of my freedom from my family, from the money that traps me and from the fear that paralyzes me. I am no longer going to live a lie, nor will I believe others' lies. I will choose how to live my life, and I will choose whom I will care about.  
  
At one point, money was the only thing that I thought I had in my life. I hated it then because I knew it couldn't buy me what I so desperately needed. It couldn't buy me love or peace or even freedom from this chair. Well, I won't have money any more, and in the future, I will no longer be able to purchase a lot of the things money can buy. I probably don't even fully comprehend what I have done. I know one day in the not too distant future, when I have sold my mother's last painting, it will hit me. But today, I realized I have the most valuable thing of all. I have my integrity. It's ironic that now that I have turned my back on my family's money, I can see the possibilities in my life much more clearly.  
  
  
  
Sorry it's all busted up,  
  
But if you can fix it,  
  
Who knows? Might help you  
  
Get from here to there  
  
Best,  
  
Phil  
  
  
  
"Might help you get from here to there," Phil wrote. I never expected him to just give me his exoskeleton. He is another person that I misjudged. At first, I thought he was a stalker, then a vigilante, then a slightly nutty protector of our city. I could barely hold back my laughter at his seemingly ridiculous behavior. I considered him a lightweight, yet he is nothing of the sort. He is a real person, sincere in his desire to do the right thing. He sees injustices around him and he tries his best to right them. But I never expected his generosity. Though he barely knows me, he has given me the possibility of achieving one of my greatest dreams. I have the feeling that he knows exactly how much his gift means to me, and that is why he gave it to me. He puts me, Eyes Only, the protector of all that is good and true, to shame.  
  
Perhaps the universe is right on schedule. No sooner did I shut the door on one part of my life than Phil's gift arrived, opening a new door before me. I am ready now to throw away the baggage that cripples me and take a step through this new door, because I'm beginning to realize that I've got moves, too. 


	83. Wed April 1, 2020 - Don't Laugh (I and I...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Pollo Loco/I & I Am A Camera  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 83 – Wednesday, April 1, 2020 – Don't Laugh (Pollo Loco/I & I Am A Camera)  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------  
  
11:30pm  
  
Max came back here after Snuffy's memorial. I was certain that she and the gang would have ended up back at Crash to spend some time with Herbal. I had barely taken the exo out of its crate and given it a cursory look when the doorbell rang. I ignored the bell for a couple of rings while I fired off an email asking Sebastian to dredge up DOD specs on exoskeletons, circa 2005. Then I reluctantly made my way to the door and yanked it open, frustrated at the untimely interruption. I was about to utter an irritated 'What!' when I saw Max's face.  
  
She gave me a soft smile and a quiet 'Hey' and then headed directly for the living room and began setting up the chessboard. I doubt that I have ever seen Max quite so subdued. Ringing the doorbell is not Max's usual method of announcing her presence, nor is it her style to wait patiently until I am ready to answer it. Her tentativeness at the door and even the contemplation with which she set up the board suggested that there was something weighing on her. She avoided my gaze as she slowly laid out piece after piece. I felt a deep desire to help carry some of that weight and, without even thinking, I reached out and I wrapped my hand around hers just as she was about to place another pawn on the board. She looked up in surprise at the sudden closing of the distance between us. I was amazed at how much her expression softened due to my simple gesture. I hadn't realized how desperately she needed the comfort of a human touch.  
  
"You okay?" I asked, still holding her hand.  
  
"Do you ever feel like a pawn?" She asked, her warm brown eyes revealing depths of sorrow I can barely begin to comprehend. Then in a flash, the cocky façade came back, and without waiting for my response, she continued with a wicked grin. "Well, you're going to feel like one tonight. Ready to get your ass kicked?" Then she proceeded to do just that, at least for a while.  
  
"He used to tell stories," she said quietly, looking up in the middle of the game.  
  
"Who?" I asked, not quite following her.  
  
"Ben," she said almost in a whisper, then her attention drifted back to the chessboard. I could tell, though, that her heart was no longer in the game. She would look up at me periodically as if she had something she wanted to tell me, but she wasn't sure if she could. Eventually, she started to talk.  
  
"Our mission was to capture a man, a death row con, who had been released into the woods outside Manticore," she began. It didn't take long me for me to realize she was talking about the man in the photos. I destroyed those photos, but I understand Max will not be able to destroy those memories. They will always be with her. "It was a timed exercise," she continued. "I believe it took us two minutes to capture him. But we didn't stop there. We killed him." She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "Lydecker didn't seem to mind."  
  
I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I just nodded my head in acknowledgement. What she told me has given me a much greater understanding of what she is fighting against. This afternoon, I reassured her that she has moves, but the more I learn about her past, the more impressed I am at what she has accomplished. She told me some more about Manticore tonight, but she mostly talked about Ben, his intelligence, his creativity and his faith in the Good Place. She even described it for me.  
  
"No one gets punished, no one gets yelled at, no one ever disappears, and when you wake up in the morning, you can stay in bed a long as you want." She smiled thinking about it.  
  
"All he wanted was to go to the Good Place," she said, with a terrible sadness and longing in her voice for the ten-year-old brother that she knew.  
  
"You did the right thing," I told her. She looked at me intensely for a few minutes. Then she nodded her head slowly. Though she has never told me exactly what happened with Ben, she knew what I was talking about and that I understood. I think she realizes that she did the right thing, that she couldn't allow Ben to continue doing what he was doing.  
  
"Don't laugh," she said, suddenly getting up from the table and perching nervously on the back of the sofa. "I have a question."  
  
"Shoot." I told her as I followed her, thinking that I would never laugh at anything she was serious about.  
  
"Have you ever been to confession?" She asked cautiously, afraid that I was going to ridicule her.  
  
"I can't say I have," I said, completely surprised. I never expected Max to be interested in organized religion, or religion of any sort. "How was it?" I asked sincerely. I knew that this was one time that even good-natured kidding was not appropriate.  
  
"It was different. We talked." She replied in her typical nonchalant manner, but I could tell it had made a difference for her. I'm not exactly sure what Max believes. She was raised not to believe in anything other than her unit, and even her faith in that was shattered years ago. Yet this must be where she found the reconciliation she was seeking after Ben's death. I can sense her grief, but also a level of peace that she seems to have found.  
  
I haven't felt the need to think much about faith or the 'Good Place'. I've spent most of my time in the last few years trying to make the here and now a better place. It has been more than enough for me. What good is faith in anything if you don't act on it? Mom used to talk about the universe and how things happened for a purpose. "It's right on schedule," she used to say. I didn't pay much attention then, but I can understand both Mom and Max's hope that there may be something more out there. God knows I send up a thousand prayers each time Max goes out on a mission.  
  
Max continues to amaze me. After Ben's death, I mentally accused her of being unfeeling, expecting her to show more anger, more grief, more something. I didn't think it could be possible for her to resolve her feelings that easily and go back to life as usual with her friends. I thought she was just hiding from the darkness in her life. Now I realize she hasn't been hiding at all, but that she has worked hard to gain the peace that she has. She truly does have more moves than I ever expected. 


	84. Th, April 2, 2020 - Exo (Hit a Sista Bac...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Hit a Sista Back  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 84 – Thursday April 2, 2020 – Exo (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
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Thursday April 2, 2020  
  
1:00 am  
  
While Max was here last night, I was completely focused on her, but now that she's gone, I find my attention drifting more and more to the exoskeleton. Although Sebastian usually responds in a timely manner, he still hasn't gotten back to me. It's taking every bit of my self-discipline not to pick up the phone and call him right now. I've been staring at the exo for over an hour, but I don't dare turn it on or try to take it apart without a spec in hand. I wonder if this contraption will lead to anything, or if it will be just another false hope.  
  
I'm not even sure how it will work. Will the cervo-motors do all the work? Or will the leg pads relay the nerve impulses to the leg muscles, with the cervo-motors providing some additional force? Is there a feedback loop? Will I be able to feel anything, or will I be moving in a fog? Will I be able to move at all? Or will the exo be nothing more than glorified leg braces? I've certainly had some not so memorable experiences with those.  
  
I didn't have any false expectations about what leg braces could do for me, but Bling and I decided to try them anyway, with the hope that I might be able to stand on my own and maybe reach a few things in an upper cupboard. In the back of my mind, I also had the small hope that if things went well, I might be able to 'walk' for short distances with crutches or a walker. We investigated several models and in the process, I learned everything I would ever want to know about the wonderful world or orthotics, otherwise known as leg braces. KAFOs, HKAFOs, donning, doffing, ambulation, swing to gait, swing through gait, you almost have to learn a whole new language just to understand what you are doing.  
  
We started with KAFOs (Knee Ankle Foot Orthotics). I have no quadriceps strength at all, so I rely on them to prevent my knees from buckling. We had them custom made of molded plastic with a locking hinge at the knee. As well as supporting my knees, they also supported my feet, ankles, calves and thighs. They are relatively easy to don and doff (i.e. put on and take off, gotta love medical terminology!) and I'm able to stand in them with Bling's assistance. In theory, with the braces on and with a pair of crutches for support, I should be able to 'walk' by using my upper body strength to pull my legs along. It's called a swing through gait, but for me, it was more like a drag through or a standstill gait. I spent dozens of excruciating hours practicing at the parallel bars, but I was never able to develop sufficient balance or hip stability to move more than a couple of feet.  
  
We even tried HKAFOs, hoping that they would give me a little more stability. They have a locking mechanism at the hip joint that helped keep me upright. Problem was, they were hell to put on and take off, and they also weighed a ton more. Despite my upper body strength, I found that moving one hundred and eighty pounds of mostly inert body weight, with another twenty to forty pounds of braces thrown in for good measure, was next to impossible. The worst drawback, though, was the loss of control once the locking mechanism at the hip joint was set. To be able sit down again, I had to manually release the lock, but I needed both hands to maintain my balance at the bars. If I let go for even a second, I'd be on the floor. I know because I practiced that a few times, too. If you want to trigger my fear of heights, just put me in a pair of leg braces, stand me up between a couple of parallel bars, lock the hip joint and let go. It feels like I've been placed on a cliff that is about to collapse under me at any moment. I think Bling instinctively understood this because he never once moved more than a few inches away from me once he got me standing. Needless to say, I was never able to progress as far as walking with crutches, or even with a walker, for that matter.  
  
Bling told me point blank that I had gone as far as I could. But despite my mounting frustration, I dug in my heels and told him I didn't care how hard I had to work, I was going to make it happen. He countered by telling me that I could find countless other activities that would be a more effective use of my time. Now that I think about it, that was about the time he showed up with the basketball. He was right of course. If I'm going to be sore and exhausted all the time, it might as well be as a result of eight hours a day of hard driving basketball rather than from wasting my time trying to drag my useless legs a few inches along the parallel bars. We got rid of the bars the moment we decided it wasn't worth it to continue to attempt walking. I definitely didn't need another reminder of my failures hanging around.  
  
Despite my failure with the braces, Bling is still determined to get me vertical every day.  
  
"Weight bearing exercise improves circulation and helps prevent osteoporosis," he's repeated more times than I can remember. Eventually, we devised a simple program that works for me. We kept the KAFOs and the rest we do ourselves. I place my hands on Bling's shoulders. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and stands me up. He provides lateral support by blocking my feet with his. When I shift my weight, I can feel Bling compensating for my instability. Surprisingly, standing up this way feels perfectly secure. Even though Bling provides much less rigid support than some of the heavier braces do, I have a greater sense of control. With his support, I'm able to stand for a few minutes at a time. Given my height, another therapist probably wouldn't be able to do this. This is just another instance where his strength has been a godsend to me.  
  
"You're in training for the cure, man. When it comes, you need to be ready." It's his latest mantra. He is still absolutely determined that I will walk again. Looks like it might become a possibility sooner than expected. That's if Sebastian ever gets back to me with the spec!  
  
  
  
8:00 am  
  
Sebastian finally called at 2:30am. I hadn't even told him that I had an exoskeleton in my possession, but he knew exactly where I was heading with this.  
  
"Got your spec," he said with a grin, and as much amusement as his voice synthesizer allows, when I flicked on the videophone after barely half a ring.  
  
"Logan, do you have any idea how this technology was developed?" He asked with uncharacteristic intensity. When I told him I didn't have a clue, he gave me an explanation that brought the idea of walking again firmly into the realm of possibility.  
  
"It's an extension of functional electrical stimulation technology (FES) that was developed at the end of the twentieth century. It was originally designed as a rehab tool for spinal cord injuries. It is based on the concept that electrical stimulation can be used to trigger contractions in paralyzed muscles, thereby increasing muscle size and strength. FES systems can range from a few electrodes that target one muscle at a time, to sophisticated systems that simulate pedaling a bicycle or even walking. In the early part of the century, FES bicycles were a regular component of rehab programs for paraplegics and quadriplegics. They were used mostly for cardiovascular exercise and for the added benefit of increased muscle mass. Bicycle systems were relatively simple to develop, but ambulation was a more complex process. Never made it past the prototype stage. Then the military got wind of it and combined it with cervo-motor technology in a format intended for able-bodied users on a battlefield. The FES component increases muscle effectiveness and the cervo-motors kick in with additional 'oomph', creating significant increases in strength. Sadly, once the technology came under the military umbrella, it became 'classified' and is no longer available to the general public."  
  
When Sebastian mentioned FES, he definitely got my attention. Bling had spent considerable time last year describing its benefits to me. He had even embarked on a quest to purchase a simple FES system for my use. He spent the better part of the year tracking down leads. Yet even with my cash and his contacts in the rehab community, we were not able to find a functioning FES system anywhere near Seattle. We thought the obstacles were a result of our ravaged economy, but now I have a greater understanding of why his efforts led nowhere.  
  
"Any chance you've got one of these things tucked into your back pocket?" Sebastian asked with a sly grin. When my silence confirmed his suspicions, the grin disappeared and he became instantly serious.  
  
"So, lets get you on your feet," he said with determination.  
  
We spent the whole night studying the exoskeleton, trying to get an understanding of the complex interrelationship between the FES and cervo- motor technology. I think we finally succeeded in mapping out its circuitry. Sebastian decided to call it quits a few minutes ago, pointing out that we probably shouldn't attempt any repairs at the end of a long sleepless night. This may be the only exoskeleton we ever gain access to. I had to reluctantly agree, even though sleep is the farthest thing from my mind at the moment.  
  
It's only been a few weeks since I was up and walking, and I still remember exactly what it feels like. Prior to Max's transfusion, I had begun to forget what it was like to stand and walk. Though I consciously resisted it, my subconscious understood that I couldn't walk anymore. By then, the chair was always in my dreams. Even when I dreamt I was dancing with Max, it was still in the background, reminding me that our dance was just a dream. That was probably why my first attempt to stand up was such I failure. I had forgotten what it took to stand and walk. But now my body remembers and so does my brain. My whole being is craving the opportunity to walk again. When I dream now, I'm always walking. There is no chair in sight. And it's not an ethereal fantasy dance. I'm just living my life, getting up in the morning and feeling the cool floor under my feet, stepping off a curb and walking across a street, or climbing a flight of stairs. It feels perfectly natural and absolutely real. Then I wake up and realize it's not real after all. During those first few waking moments, all my desperation comes flooding back and I can understand why I almost gave up on my life. Although I am not about to give up now, I am willing to do almost anything for the opportunity to walk again. I've even considered pulling out the parallel bars and giving the leg braces another try. I'm grateful that a more practical solution has presented itself.  
  
I know the exoskeleton won't come close to recreating those fleeting days of complete freedom I enjoyed just a month ago, but if it functions at all, it will be more than what I've got now. At least I've retained one residual benefit from my week in hell. Although my spinal chord disintegrated rapidly, the atrophy in my leg muscles seems to be progressing at a more normal rate. With the work Bling and I have been doing, we've managed to slow down the process even further and retained most of the muscle mass that was regenerated by the pluripotents. I've probably lost only about ten percent of my total muscle mass, which is excellent compared to the fifty percent or more that most paraplegics lose. If the exoskeleton does have an active FES component, I may even be able to gain that back. Now that's something I can sleep on. 


	85. Fri April 3, 2020 - Technical Advisor (H...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
1 Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Hit a Sista Back  
  
2 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 85 – Friday April 3, 2020 – Technical Advisor (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
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Friday April 3, 2020  
  
2:00 am  
  
We've been having serious problems with the damaged servomotor. After the third short in three hours, Sebastian suggested we catch a few hours sleep and tackle it in the morning when we're fresh. It's been an hour already, but I'm finding it difficult to relax enough to sleep. Getting this thing to work has become an all-consuming project for me, as it also has for Sebastian. He has spent most of the last two days helping me with it. Without his knowledge, there is no way I could have even attempted to repair it. Once again, he has proven himself to be my most valuable technical advisor.  
  
It surprises me now to think that only two years ago, he was just another name on Nathan's contact list.  
  
Sebastian – Medical/Scientific/Military – Research/Technical Advice  
  
No last name, just a simple description and a telephone number. Eventually, I called him with a question for an Eyes Only file. That first call lasted about a minute. He gave me the information I needed, I thanked him, and we hung up. In no way did that call alert me to what a valuable resource Sebastian would prove to be, but as I continued to call him periodically, I began to get a sense of the depth and the breadth of his knowledge. The more obscure the data or the more clandestine the organization, the more likely he was to have specific and detailed information.  
  
The one thing I did notice about that first call was the synthesized voice on the other end of the line. I didn't ask him about it, though. Quirky informants are relatively common in my line of work. If he felt he needed to mask his voice, I could live with that. Then as we continued to work together, his voice fell to the back of my consciousness, so it wasn't until over a year later that I learned its true source.  
  
"Why don't you come over? It will be easier to show you than to tell you," he said simply while we were discussing a particularly complex concept that he wasn't able to adequately explain over the phone. He gave me his address, so I climbed in the car and drove to his place. I had a picture in my mind of someone like me, relatively young, inquisitive, strong, and able to handle himself. Who else would have the courage to explore the things he was into? Needless to say, I was completely unprepared when I met him. But he got down to business so quickly that I barely had time to register my shock. I had no idea at that point that only a few months later, I would find myself in similar circumstances.  
  
We spent a few hours reviewing the file and he impressed me once again. At times, I consider myself a technical person, but when I talk to Sebastian, I realize I am barely scratching the surface of the knowledge that is out there. At least, I have sufficient technical skills to understand him on a conceptual level. I was even more impressed when he showed me his research facilities. Even now, he continues to astound me. Just two months ago when Max called in with a dead Red soldier on her hands, I passed the call on to Sebastian and within fifteen minutes, he had a team assembled on site to recover the body.  
  
In the course of that first meeting I discovered that Sebastian and I are in fact very similar. We possess the same interests and drive, the same curiosity about how the world works and the same desire to effect change. As we have continued to work together, I have come to realize that he is more like me than I ever guessed. He has everything I have except more of it, more intelligence, more knowledge, more power, more disability, more loneliness and more isolation. When Sebastian told Max that he has a lot of time on his hands, he wasn't kidding. I've spent a lot of time with him in the last year and I know how he lives. There have been times when I thought I was lonely and isolated, self-imposed as it was, but he's got me beat in spades. He's done an admirable job bringing the world home, but given the facts of his physical circumstances, that is as far as he can go. Yet despite the challenges he faces, he has an intense determination to achieve his goals. It's his determination that has kept me from sinking into hopeless frustration each time the servomotor shorts out. He's spent hours on the phone working on the exo with me. Ironically, due to the nature of his disability, this project is waste of time for him. Yet he insists that I continue working on it.  
  
  
  
7:00 am  
  
I managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, but I was up like a shot and back at work by 5:00 am. A whole lot of good that did me, though, the servo- controller just shorted out again. The most frustrating thing about this whole situation is that I am spending so much time on a second best solution, when I know a cure for paralysis is already out there. Dr. Vertes wasn't the only doctor working in the field of motor-function research. Behind the scenes, we've continued to make astounding advances in technology and medical science, but since the Pulse, they are available only to an elite few. Manticore is a perfect example of that. I'm sure they have the cure for thousands of devastating health problems, but if they have their way, that knowledge will never become available to the general public.  
  
In the last ten years, mainstream medical care has regressed to mid twentieth century levels. Bling has described some of the rehab equipment that was available in the early part of this century, and I was astounded with the sheer range of choices people had then. After the Pulse, as both government and private insurers collapsed and clients' incomes evaporated, thousands of medical technology companies and rehab centers went out of business. Then the Manticores of the world stepped in, reducing access to technology even further. Most people must now rely on family, friends and their own ingenuity to develop the adaptive devices they need. I have more resources that most, but I still find myself hitting barrier after barrier.  
  
I've certainly hit a major barrier with the exoskeleton. Burnt out servo- controllers, malfunctioning servo-chips, electrical shorts, dozens of hours invested and who knows how many thousands of dollars to follow into this money pit of a project, and what have I got? A hope and a prayer, with no guarantee that it will actually work for me. I feel like a frustrated child trying to erect a building block tower on an unstable base. I'm afraid that the whole thing will come tumbling down on my head. Sometimes, I think I should just give up and stop wasting my time, and send the thing crashing to the floor with a sweep of my hand. Sebastian doesn't see it that way, though. He thinks that if there is even a slim chance that the exo will help me to walk, I should take it. It's at times like these that I appreciate his tenaciousness, because I'm not sure if I have the patience or the endurance to put myself through another fiasco, all in the name of a seemingly unattainable dream. 


	86. Fri April 3, 2020 - Normal Life (Hit a S...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Hit a Sista Back  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 86 – Friday April 3, 2020 – Normal Life (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
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11:00 am  
  
Max's sister, Tinga, has a husband and a son. Her husband placed a missing persons' ad for her on a milk carton, of all things. I picked up a carton myself after Max left. That is definitely Tinga's photo. Disappeared on February 25th, the day she left for Canada with Zack. She obviously had no opportunity to warn her family, and now they've put themselves in a precarious situation. I can pretty well guarantee that Lydecker is already set up on them. Only good thing I can see is that the ad was only placed yesterday. Max might have a chance to get them out before Lydecker makes his move.  
  
I had no problem finding Tinga's address for Max. The fact that Charlie published their phone number on milk cartons up and down the Pacific Northwest suggested that he wasn't exactly trying to keep his location from anyone. Although Name that Number service is no longer available, it was relatively easy to hack into Portland's telephone system and pull up the address. It was registered under his name, Charles Smith, Suite 705 - 1969 SW Park Avenue, downtown Portland, just off highway 405. I expect to hear from Max some time in the next twenty-four hours. She will probably want to bring Charlie and Case back here before relocating them. We'll need to relocate them as far away from Portland as possible. The East Coast of Canada is a good possibility. There is still some work available at the Port of Hamilton, and it has the added benefit of being outside the jurisdiction of the American military. I'd also like to provide some cash to keep them going until Charlie is able to find work. Gone are the days, though, when I wouldn't think twice about dropping five thousand dollars into an envelope for someone who needed to get out of town quickly. But I still have a few options in the cash-flow department. A certain Ming Dynasty urn should provide enough cash for Charlie and a cervo-chip or two to boot.  
  
Both Charlie and Case will need new ID packages. I'll be spending the next day putting those together for them. As a start, I pulled up Charlie's current profile. Even with our semi-functioning and disjointed computer systems, it is still possible to build a profile on an individual. For that matter, given the inconsistencies of current security systems, it can sometimes be easier. A combination of DMV, police, banking and vital stats records can usually provide adequate information. Haven't found much on Tinga, seems she's as good at keeping a low profile as Max is, but there is plenty of information on Charlie. Looks like they kept most of their records in his name, rental contracts, utility bills, bank account, etc.  
  
  
  
Charles Smith, self employed carpenter, age 32  
  
-Driver's license # 45926  
  
-Married September 26, 2014  
  
-Spouse, Penny Smith, age 22  
  
-One child, Case, age 5  
  
-No criminal record  
  
-One sector pass application, July 2017, purpose: a two week family vacation to California  
  
-Annual Income $40,000  
  
-Average bank balance in current year $500 (not necessarily an indicator of their true savings, many people have gone back to the mattress stuffing technique)  
  
-Residence: 1 bedroom rental apartment, 80 year old building, in rundown area near Portland University  
  
-Monthly rent $2,000  
  
-Family vehicle, 2001 Honda Civic, value $500  
  
-No other assets, no debt (Not that personal credit is available any longer.)  
  
  
  
It appears that Charlie and Tinga had built themselves a simple, normal life, with low profile, blue-collar jobs. Basically living hand to mouth, but apparently not looking over their shoulders every day. It's a shame that life is over for them. 


	87. Sat April 4, 2020 - Assurances (Hit a Si...

Disclaidmer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Hit a Sista Back  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 87 – Saturday April 4, 2020 – Assurances (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
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Saturday April 4, 2020  
  
11:30pm  
  
As expected, Max brought Tinga and her family back here. Fogle Towers, refuge for embattled X5s. It's nothing new to me. Yet, there is something about this situation that is hitting closer to home than usual. I never thought I would meet an X5 with a husband and child. It appears that Tinga almost succeeded in having the normal life that Max seems to crave. But now everything has fallen apart for her. I've been watching her repeatedly reach out to her husband, only to have him pull away.  
  
"How's the happy couple?" I asked Max cynically as we watched Charlie walk away from Tinga one more time. They are obviously anything but happy. How could Tinga not tell Charlie what she is? How could she raise a child with him and not find five minutes one day to let him know what he has gotten into with her?  
  
"They'll get over it," Max said matter-of-factly, expecting Charlie to set everything behind him and just move on. She doesn't realize that it's not that easy. How can Tinga expect Charlie to trust her when she can't even share the most fundamental facts about her life with him? He had a right to know what he was getting into and she took that right away. I said as much to Max, but she didn't accept my argument for a minute.  
  
Max is right, of course. You can never really know what you're getting into with a relationship. You may think that you know a person. You may think that you understand who they are, but you will never truly know them until you are completely involved. I certainly learned that with Daphne and Val. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I had no clue. There is no reason to think that my relationship with Max is any different. What was I doing seeking assurances from her? What did I expect her to say? There won't be any unforeseeable obstacles? Nothing will ever split us apart? Or how about this one… We'll live happily ever after.  
  
Come on! We're not even together. It doesn't matter how much I care about her. Considering our circumstances, I know our prospects aren't good. I've got the happy couple in my living room to prove that. When we discovered that Jace was in a family way, I found it almost amusing, but I realize now that there is nothing funny about it. Tinga's situation has literally brought that home for me. Two X5s, two relationships, two children, two life threatening situations. Running for you life is not conducive to cozy domesticity. For once, I can almost agree with Zack. Given what has happened, the futility of an X5 attempting to have a family is not lost on me.  
  
Yet, these so-called soldiers continue to seek love and companionship. Not even years of Manticore programming can erase their desire for a family. Their situation may be more extreme, but it parallels what all of us face. Relationships are fraught with challenges and, more often than not, they fail. It's unrealistic to expect anything more.  
  
So the question becomes, despite the potential for failure, do you still take the risk? 


	88. Sun April 5, 2020 - Lessons (Hit a Sista...

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Hit a Sista Back  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
Chapter 88 – Sunday April 5, 2020 – Lessons (Hit a Sista Back)  
  
  
  
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Sunday April 5, 2020  
  
I found Charlie sitting alone in the dark kitchen. When I snapped on the light and he looked up in surprise, I could clearly see the fear and confusion etched into his face. Overnight, his simple life had become anything but simple. He had no understanding of what he was involved in and no resources to deal with it. He didn't even know his wife's real name. At that moment, my cynicism faded away. The man and the circumstances he found himself in affected me more deeply than I ever expected.  
  
I thought I could help him. I thought I could provide a level of understanding, a person to talk to. I broke out my best bottle of scotch for him, hoping to give him a superficial pleasure to think about for a moment. When he suggested I save it for a special occasion, I told him with a smile that in the Cale family, when a guest needs a drink, that is occasion enough. I even managed to elicit a weak smile from him. Max may have brought him here, but he quickly became my guest. The truth is, he was much more than a guest. I felt an inexplicable connection to this man, who seemed so lost and afraid.  
  
His first question was how long Max and I have been together. Not 'Are you together?' but 'How long have you been together?' He stated it as if our relationship was a given fact. When I repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time this year, that we're not like that, he seemed surprised. Then he asked me if it was because of what Max is. What she is. What I am. What our world is. A thousand things have held us back.  
  
He talked about how difficult it was to cope when Tinga first disappeared and how difficult it still was, even though he had her back. When he said he was considering running away, I challenged him. "You don't have the right to take her son away."  
  
"She didn't have the right to get him into this," he protested, using almost the same words I had used with Max just a few hours earlier. Despite what I said to Max, I couldn't let him run away from the relationship he had obviously worked very hard for. I knew that Tinga loved him. That was beyond question. And I knew that he loved her. Despite the fear and upheaval, I could see it in his eyes. So I pushed him to stick with it.  
  
"Maybe not. But you're in it and you're gonna have to deal with it. She is still the same woman you fell in love with, raised a son with. Don't throw that away because some lunatic wants to put her back in a cage." As I remember my words now, I realize that I could have been talking to myself. Our situations are so similar, except that I am in this by choice. I don't have the excuse of not knowing what I am getting into.  
  
Shortly after our conversation, things truly fell apart for Charlie. He didn't run away or abandon his wife, but he still lost her. Lydecker used Case as a lure to recapture Tinga. He couldn't have chosen anything more compelling. When Case got sick, she was desperate with worry. Charlie wanted to take Case to a hospital. He and Zack were literally at each other's throats about it. Charlie couldn't understand why a hospital wasn't an option any longer, not that they would have been able to help him at a hospital anyway. Lydecker rigged up a barcode to appear on Case's neck to let us know he was behind this. He set it up to display his contact number, of all things. When Max called him, he informed her that he had infected Case with nanotechnology. He said Case only had a few hours to live. Then he made his offer, Tinga in exchange for the antidote. Nothing is sacred to those people, not even an innocent child. Of course, Lydecker succeeded. Tinga turned herself in. What else could she do? I can't fathom the grief Charlie must have felt when he realized that he had no choice but to give her up to save his son. Yet, even after everything that happened, he thanked us for all that we did for him. But it feels so inadequate. Nothing we could do could ever make up for the loss of a wife and mother.  
  
I've never been in a position where I didn't regret my actions. I can trace all the things that have gone wrong in my life back to my own decisions. I don't know what it is like to live without regret. In this area, Charlie's life is completely different from mine. He did the right thing. He took the risk. Charlie and Tinga took a chance on their love and built a life together. They even raised a child together. But their world still fell apart. Charlie didn't deserve this, none of them did, but they were powerless to stop it. Yet, despite his grief, Charlie made it clear that their love was worth all the fear and pain they had to endure. He could have blamed Tinga for not telling him earlier what was going on. He could have blamed Zack or Lydecker or any one of us. But he didn't blame anyone. All he could talk about was how precious the time he had with Tinga was to him.  
  
"'Cause even after everything that's happened I wouldn't give up one minute of the time that we spent together. Not a second." He said with complete conviction.  
  
"Not a second." He said again, and that just after telling his son that his mother had to go away. No man should ever have to do that.  
  
This is a very difficult lesson to comprehend. I could do the right thing. I could tell Max how I feel. I could dedicate myself to making her happy, but through no fault of ours, we could still be ripped apart. I doubt that I could live with that. Yet Charlie believes it is worth it. That nothing will take his time with Tinga away from him. Could their love be that powerful? God, I hope it's true, for Charlie and for all of us.  
  
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A/N: Still more questions than answers at this point, but if you haven't read the Meow chapters in a while you might want to take another look at them at them now. Hopefully some of the insights we've been looking for are there. I also highly recommend them as a precursor to the AJBAC chapters which are coming on Thursday. As always I'd love to hear your impressions. 


	89. Wed April 8, 2020 - Gray Zone (Meow)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Meow  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 89 - Wednesday April 8, 2020 - Gray Zone (Meow)  
  
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Wednesday April 8, 2020  
  
I'm living in the gray zone. I used to see everything in black and white. My life before Eyes Only was black. Eyes Only was white. It was as simple as that. I used to think that I would sacrifice anything for my principles. I didn't get close to people because it was the principles and the cause that mattered. I accused Max's whole family of being thieves when Zack and Tinga hot-wired a car to make a run for the Canadian border. Now everything has changed.  
  
I'm a thief, too. I had Max steal the microchip I need to make this exoskeleton work. It wasn't something I could justify because it was for Eyes Only. It was for me. So I could walk. So I could walk today or tomorrow, not twelve or fourteen weeks from now. When Sebastian suggested that I not tell Max the real reason why I needed it, I told him it was a sneaky idea and that I loved it. So I created this ridiculously elaborate lie to convince Max to get it for me. Pierpont Lempkin, the Taliban and Star Wars? I'm surprised she didn't see right through me.  
  
I didn't even blink an eye a few weeks ago when Max suggested she add some cash to the disks she was going to lift from Lempkin's safe. Whatever happened to 'Mr. I will call the store and have them charge the dress to my account'?  
  
When did I start to sneak around like this? Well, I've certainly lied to Max before to get what I want. That whole termite tented, rented cabin fiasco almost bit me back. It was just a good thing Max didn't really care where we went that weekend. That trip took me places I never thought I would go. I went from being dumped on the floor in the bar, feeling like a useless victim, to killing four people in the space of forty-eight hours. I hung fishing line across a door and a man slit his throat on it. "Kill or be killed," Herman said to me. I didn't understand that before. I didn't understand the terror and desperation that people have had to live with. I always thought I could take the higher ground. Now I'm not so sure. I've felt plenty of desperation myself lately.  
  
So what am I, a cripple or a superhero's sidekick, a victim or a killer, a liar and thief or the protector of all that is good and true?  
  
Tonight, I'm just a man. A real man with hopes and dreams, feelings and weaknesses. I'm not some holier-than-thou hero in an impregnable tower. I need the woman I love in my life. I need to show her hope and happiness. I need to hear from her that it's okay that I'm not perfect. Will that ever happen? I'm not sure. But tomorrow, I will give it a try. 


	90. Th April 9, 2020 - Anniversary (Meow)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Meow  
  
Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 90 - Thursday April 9, 2020 - Anniversary (Meow)  
  
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1 Thursday April 9, 2020  
  
I've had my legs taken out from under me again.  
  
Every time I try to get close to Max, every time things appear to be moving in the direction we both want, something happens and I get slammed into the ground again.  
  
Today was our anniversary. One year ago, she crashed into my life. We were going to celebrate together and I was going to surprise her by standing up, thanks to Phil and his exoskeleton.  
  
I was so full of hope this morning as I tried the exoskeleton for the first time. There I was, teetering on the edge of collapse, barely able to take two steps, yet grinning from ear to ear in glee. It was another miracle. They've been coming my way fast and furious lately. I hadn't walked in weeks, but it was amazing how quickly I adapted. I was striding comfortably around the apartment within an hour. I couldn't wait to share this miracle with Max.  
  
But I didn't even get the chance. She called and cancelled. Did she even give me a reason? I don't remember. All I remember is that the lights went out around me and the walls closed in on me. I'm back in my solitary prison. As I extinguished the candles on the dinner table, I couldn't help but think that my little hopes are just like those candles, easily snuffed out with just a thumb and an index finger.  
  
I want to be able to stand for her, to walk for her, to dance with her. But what's the point? I might as well just stay in this chair because each time I try to get up, I just get sent to my knees again. As I look out the window into the night, the world seems too sharp, the lights too bright. It should be darker. I wish it would rain. 


	91. Fri April 10, 2020 - Kiss (Meow)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: Meow  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 91– Friday April 10, 2020 – Kiss (Meow)  
  
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Friday April 10, 2020  
  
I've had my legs taken out from under me again. But this time, everything is different.  
  
Max came over tonight to apologize about yesterday. She dropped a bomb about her feline DNA and what she did instead of having dinner with me. But as I watched her standing by the window, so devastated and forlorn, I forgot about myself. I didn't feel betrayed. All I could think about was her and the pain she was feeling. So I walked up to her, hoping to comfort her. It wasn't important that I was standing. When she looked at me in surprise, I quickly brushed it off with a quick glance at the exoskeleton. What was important was Max.  
  
I told her she didn't need to be sorry or ashamed, that I knew who she was. And I do know who she is. I know the horrors of her past and her hopes for the future, the darkness that follows her everywhere she runs, and the light she chases so desperately. I know her anger and her fear and her loving and trusting heart. I know the child who murdered a man at age nine, and the woman who reveres life. I know the X5 who picks up a stranger to satisfy an uncontrollable urge that is wired deep into her being, and the innocent girl who gives her heart with a kiss and a genuine smile. I know the wounded old soul and the lighthearted woman-child. It's the whole Max that I know and love. I would never ask her to hide what she is, to show me only her light side. That would be an insult to her. She fights the darkness and the flaws that were built into her every day, and she is winning the battle. She has brought so much passion and joy into my life. She is the most beautifully human person that I know. She doesn't have anything to be sorry for or ashamed of.  
  
Then my legs collapsed under me. The exoskeleton had been working fine. I had no problems with it for two days. But when I needed it most, it failed me. Max couldn't catch me and I hit the floor hard. My legs were shaking uncontrollably and I couldn't stop it. I was so ashamed. In the past when I tried to be there for her, something like this would always happen. I was never able to be completely there for her. My body would always betray me. And it happened again today. All I could say was "sorry". I don't know how many times I repeated it. I turned the machine off and sat there on the floor, totally exposed. There was no Eyes Only mission or wheelchair to hide behind, and no exoskeleton to prop me up. It was just me with all my imperfections, my weaknesses, my needs, and my shame, totally revealed.  
  
Two nights ago when I wrote that I needed to hear from her that it was okay to be imperfect, I had no intention of falling flat on my butt in front of her. But I did. Tonight, Max saw me at my worst and she repeated my words back to me. She told me that I didn't need to be sorry or ashamed. I remember that she had tried to tell me this many times before, but I wouldn't listen to her. I couldn't accept her words or her actions or the look of sorrow in her eyes when she caught a glimpse of my pain. But tonight, I chose to believe her. She has accepted me and all my frailties, even more fully than I have accepted hers. It took me a long time to put the pieces together in my heart. But tonight, I realized that she has always accepted me.  
  
So there I was on the floor, with my legs splayed out in front of me in the most pathetic position I've ever been in. A few weeks ago, I would have pushed her away if she'd caught me like this, or I would have turned off my emotions until she walked away in frustration and left me alone with my shame. But not today. As Max sat down beside me, I think we both realized that we didn't need to hide any more, that our fears didn't have to hold us back. Pathetic. Hopeless. Not any more. We can face our realities. My reality is that my legs don't work. They may never work normally again. But I can still love.  
  
So I leaned forward and gently kissed Max. She kissed me back with all the love and passion that I knew she would. Then for a moment, I got scared and asked her if we should wait. But she looked at me with those beautiful, dark eyes and assured me that it wasn't Manticore doing this, it was her. She wanted to be with me. When she kissed me again, I knew it was true.  
  
I'm writing this as Max and Zack are in the other room, making their final preparations to rescue Tinga. We've barely talked since Zack interrupted us a few hours ago. I think we will always have interruptions in our lives and that we will always have to steal our moments together. This is the nature of her life and mine too.  
  
We are all in mission mode now. In a few minutes, she will head out to fight another battle and I don't know if she will return. I know that I might never see her again after tonight. Or if she does make it back, that I may lose her tomorrow or next week or next year. I know that we don't have all the time in the world, even though that is what I said to put her mind at ease. But I do know what I am getting into with this relationship. Tonight is part of what I signed up for. I'm here for any moment I can have with Max, in whatever form it may come. Charlie was right when he described his love for Tinga a few days ago. I won't regret it, not for a second.  
  
Not for a second.  
  
  
  
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A/N: Why does Logan want to walk so badly? Is it for himself or is it for Max? I hope these Meow chapters answered your questions. I'd love to hear what you think. 


	92. Sat, April 11, 2020 - Mission (AJBAC)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: AJBAC  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: None  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
  
  
Chapter 92 – Saturday April 11, 2020 – Mission (AJBAC)  
  
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Saturday April 11, 2020  
  
3:00 am  
  
We're one hour from the Manticore facility. We pulled out of Seattle at 8:00 pm last night. Once we made it past the city checkpoints, we were able to make excellent time. The X5s have been taking turns driving. With their reflexes and eyesight, driving at 120 mph is just a Sunday stroll. We will be pulling into the woods behind the facility at 4:00 am. Lydecker knows a well-concealed location. Once we arrive, I will need about fifteen minutes to loop the camera feeds before Max and the others go in. The attack is planned for 4:30 am.  
  
Lydecker and I slept for several hours during the drive. We weren't about to take the chance of letting sleep deprivation affect our performance. We're already taking enough risks. Max and the others haven't slept at all. They spent most of the time reviewing the plans of the facility. It's been enlightening watching them work together. They don't say much, but they have an intense unity. I can see it in their eyes. It's there, that undeniable connection, just under the surface.  
  
Then there's Lydecker. He is perfectly in his element. He will finally get to see his perfect soldiers do what they were designed for. The X5s distrust and hate him, but it doesn't bother him in the least. It means he taught them well. His comments to Zack still resonate in my ears. "There's no 'I' in 'team', Zack." He sounded more like a proud parent than a sadistic commander. He's even begun to treat me the same way.  
  
"Why are you here? This isn't your fight." He asked, already knowing the answer. My silence just condemned me.  
  
"It's all about her." He answered his own question. "It's okay. I understand."  
  
I almost expected him to say that he loves her, too. I still don't know why he treated Max and the others so harshly when it's obvious that he cares about them. The more I get to know him, the less I understand him.  
  
Max does not have a great feeling about this mission. I can tell from her language. Words like 'deathwatch' and her intense concentration are a dead giveaway. I think she realizes that this mission can easily turn into a disaster. I already experienced a near disaster a couple of nights ago. The panic I felt when Max didn't respond to my calls is still very fresh in my mind. It's only been two days, and she'll soon be setting out on the most dangerous mission of her life. I told her that everything would be all right, but I understand the risks she is taking and I'm not prepared to lose her. I just want her to come back. 


	93. April 2020 - Not Really Gone (AJBAC)

Disclaimer: I don't own em'  
  
Title: Cale Diaries  
  
Author: a fan  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Episode Reference: AJBAC  
  
1 Spoilers: All first season episodes  
  
Fic Reference: Mourning  
  
Feed back: Always welcome! Email me at afanofda@yahoo.com  
  
Acknowledgements: To my awesome beta Zanna whose contributions go much further than finding my lost commas, of which I may add there are many. Zanna your insights are invaluable to me.  
  
This acknowledgment has been up for a while, but it's as true now as it ever was. I would never have made it through this fic without Zanna's insights. She kept me true to my vision of Logan and never once let me get lazy. I'll never be able to repay the hundreds of hours she has put into this story.  
  
Chapter 93 – April 2020 – Not Really Gone (AJBAC)  
  
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April 2020  
  
I thought I knew hurt. I thought I knew grief. I thought I knew what it felt like not to be able to move. I thought I knew what it felt like to be paralyzed by pain.  
  
KIA, he said. We drove the twelve hours back to Seattle, the cold floor of the van easier to accept than even a hint of consciousness. For a few minutes, the floor stopped moving and rough hands stitched a wound at my temple. Then I was back on the moving floor, missing the piercing pain of the needle. Anything was better than remembering those words, KIA, and the look in his eyes. He wants her dead or in a cage. He doesn't care about her. He doesn't feel compassion. It's false sorrow. It can't be true.  
  
The van door slammed, men were talking. "Destroyed the DNA database. Zack was wounded and captured." Then the words I couldn't bear to hear. "Max is dead." Reminding me that I was there. I saw her die. I saw the hole in her chest. I saw the blood pouring out of the wound, soaking us both.  
  
"He has a concussion, wouldn't leave her." He flung me over his shoulder and dumped me in the car. Then his hand was on my shoulder and his face changed. I shouldn't have opened my eyes. I didn't need to see his face. I didn't need to see his eyes, confirming beyond a doubt what I didn't want to know. I closed my eyes again, but it was too late.  
  
"I'm so sorry, son," he said. I couldn't move. Max was dead. Mercifully, oblivion reclaimed me. I wish it were that easy now.  
  
A car door opened and closed, then footsteps and another door opened, letting in the familiar gas tinged odor of the parking lot.  
  
"We're here," he said. Bling.  
  
Strong arms began to pull me up, but a harsh voice stopped them.  
  
"I can walk."  
  
We walked to the elevator, rode it silently, unlocked the apartment door, and walked into the living room. I steady hand at my elbow led me to the sofa.  
  
Then I sat.  
  
The sun goes up. The sun goes down. The world is passing me by. I don't know how many days have gone by, but it doesn't matter. I'm not in the world anymore. I'm someplace in hell. Max is dead.  
  
I remember watching sunsets and sunrises, thinking I had never seen so many colors in my life. But what did I care. They were all black. Sunrises have no meaning anymore. I hate the sun. I hate the new day when I am still in the nightmare of the previous night.  
  
I didn't lie down. It hurt too much to lie down. I remember a full glass of water on the table. Looking at it for hours. I must have reached for it because the gut wrenching pain returned. Max was dead. I looked again and the glass was empty. Later, it was replaced by another glass. That one stayed full.  
  
I must have slept. The sun glaring through the window forced me back into consciousness. I squeezed my eyes closed against the light that only intensified the throbbing in my head, but I didn't dare turn away from it. I didn't dare move. Eventually, the unyielding light forced me to raise my arm and shield my eyes. I discovered the caused of the throbbing, stitches at my temple, bringing everything back as sharp as a needle.  
  
"She's gone."  
  
Bling had cleaned the wound, but I could still feel the blood matted in my hair. I was lying in bed, covered by a blanket. He must have gotten sick of me sitting on the couch and moved me to my bed after I fell asleep. He'd left my chair beside the bed where I could easily reach it. Typical Bling thoughtfulness. Without the exo, he knew I would need it if I wanted to get up. He'd also left the exo propped up against the wall. And of course, he'd stripped off my filthy clothes. No way he would have put me to bed covered with dirt and blood.  
  
I sat up with a start. The world spun into fast forward. I was in the chair and out of the bedroom in a minute. I found Bling at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.  
  
"Bling, where are my clothes?" That harsh voice was back again. This time, it was filled with frantic urgency.  
  
"Laundry hamper." Bling looked up. I didn't need to see his red swollen eyes. Don't cry in front of me. Don't grieve in front of me. I don't have room for grief. I can't begin to grieve.  
  
Then I was in the bathroom, tossing the lid off the hamper and yanking out the bloodied heap of clothes.  
  
I remember a man doubled over with grief, hugging a bloodied shirt to his chest, the blood darkened and dried, Max's blood. An indescribable ache resonated through his body and escaped involuntarily through his mouth. "Oh god oh god oh god." The man's friend placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, hoping to offer a little comfort. But there was no comfort. There was no possibility of comfort.  
  
I turned to Bling and handed him the clothes.  
  
"Please, don't wash them." That voice again. This time it was barely a whisper.  
  
I looked at the clock. 11:00 am.  
  
Get back in the routine. Focus on the details. Hope to somehow survive.  
  
Take a shower. Transfer to the shower chair, strip off the shorts, roll into the shower and shut the door. Don't vary anything. Stick with the routine. Stay in auto-pilot. Don't make any decisions. Don't give yourself time to think.  
  
I turned on the water and focused on the warm steady stream as it drummed onto my back. I watched the soap wash away the blood and grime and sweat. It pooled in small puddles by the drain, before pouring over the edge and into the pipes. I closed my eyes as I washed my hair, focusing on the feel of the shampoo as I worked it through my hair. Then I just sat there, letting the water pour over me, listening once more to its drumbeat. Eventually, I opened the shower door and reached for the towel that always hung on the hook just outside the door. I dried myself thoroughly, gave my hair a final toweling, then as I'd done a thousand times before, I finished by leaning forward and wrapping the towel around my waist. I pushed myself to the sink and pulled out my shaving kit. Might as well shave, it will fill some time. I changed the blades and adjusted the razor. I worked up a lather with an old fashioned brush Dad had given me even before I started shaving. I carefully shaved over a week's worth of growth from my face. Had it been over a week?  
  
Don't ask.  
  
Just wash the brush and razor and put them away. Rinse the sink. Watch the shavings wash down the drain. Dry your face. Brush your teeth. Spit. Floss. Follow up with mouthwash. Focus on the burning liquid. Drive it between your teeth. Rinse the sink again and use the facecloth to wipe away any residue. Toss all the towels in the hamper. Put everything away. Leave everything pristine, no traces of anything. Nothing to think about.  
  
Then I just sat and stared at myself in the mirror.  
  
Not good enough. Do it again.  
  
Get back into the shower and start the water again. Wash faster, more aggressively. Scrub the last few days off your skin. Stay under the water longer. Get lost in the driving beat of the spray. Shave a second time. Brush again, take longer, be more thorough, feel every stroke. Floss again. Take another swig of mouthwash. Repeat the cleanup.  
  
I wheeled back into the bedroom and slipped on a clean pair of shorts. I retrieved the exoskeleton from its post against the wall and strapped it on. I turned it on, then stood up and walked to the closet. I threw on a t- shirt and sweater. My skin felt raw under the clothes. This was good. It was something I could focus on. I found a pair of jeans and pulled them on, glad that they fit over the exo. Don't have to buy new pants. I checked the clock as I walked out of the bedroom. 1:00 pm. It took me two hours to get dressed. Two hours survived and an eternity to go.  
  
I found Bling at the computer, checking for communication from Syl or Krit or even Lydecker.  
  
"Nothing yet." Bling turned towards me. His eyes were still red. There were fresh tearstains on his cheeks, which he hadn't bothered to wipe away. He had been crying again.  
  
"You hungry?"  
  
Nothing affects me. Nothing can touch me. I see only what I want to see.  
  
I walked into the kitchen and checked the supplies, bread, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomatoes. I pulled out the loaf of bread and cut several slices. I found the mayonnaise and Dijon mustard and spread it on the bread. I sliced the cheese and the tomatoes, focusing on the rhythm of the knife on the cutting board. I tore off a few lettuce leaves and washed them in the sink. I assembled two sandwiches, placed them on plates, walked back over to Bling and handed him a plate.  
  
We ate in silence.  
  
I took the dishes back to the sink and washed them up. I put away the food and wiped down the counters. I rinsed out the dishcloth, wrung it out and folded it over a rack to dry. I dried the dishes and placed them back in the cupboard. 1:45pm.  
  
I walked over to the window and stared down at the city below. Watch the traffic, count the cars. Don't think. An hour later, I walked into the bedroom and stripped down to my t-shirt and shorts. I left the exo on, walked back to the training room and picked up a couple of dumbbells to warm up with.  
  
Bling and I don't really function as therapist and client any more. I know enough about fitness, and what my body can or can't do, that I can design any type of program that I want for myself. We still work out together, but more as training partners, working side by side, and occasionally spotting for one another. Yesterday, though, I didn't even bother to ask if he wanted to work out.  
  
I started with the bench press, then moved through several exercises, military press, triceps kickbacks, lat pulldowns, and bicep curls, doing one set of fifteen reps each. I selected a heavier weight and completed another round of fifteen. With my muscles sufficiently warmed up, I doubled the weights and started a set of pyramids. Been focusing on muscular strength lately. I completed 10 reps of each exercise, then progressed up the pyramid, completing sets of 8, 6, and 4 reps, increasing the weight each time until I reached 100% of max for the final 2 reps. As I worked my way back down, I decreased the weights and increased the reps. I stopped for a drink of water, then started a second round. I could feel fatigue begin to affect my muscles, so I focused more intently on technique as I completed each repetition. Abs engaged, elbows slightly bent, posture relaxed, exhale on exertion and repeat. As I worked through a third set, I could feel my muscles shaking with exertion and my breathing get heavier. I stopped for some more water and started on a fourth round, pushing through each repetition and forcing my muscles to do the work. I counted out each set as I worked, focusing on the rhythm of the numbers in my head. By the end of the round, I was barely able to complete the reps. My heart was pounding and my breathing was labored. I drank some more water. I could feel my arms shaking as I reached for the water bottle, thinking I would be sore tomorrow. This was good, another thing to focus on. I waited a few minutes to allow my muscles to recover, then picked up the weights again. As I moved towards the bench to start a fifth round, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  
  
"That's enough." Bling's voice was quiet.  
  
I looked at the clock again. 5:00 pm. I put down the weights and walked back into the bedroom. I sat in the chair, took off the exo, and headed to the bathroom for another shower. Six hours filled and an eternity to go.  
  
I prepared dinner for Bling, grateful for the familiar routine of cooking, recipes, ingredients, preparation techniques. A thousand and one things to focus on. I set the table, pulling out the china, linens, silverware and crystal. A complete place setting takes longer to assemble and creates more dishes to clean. More to focus on. We sat down to eat once again.  
  
"Logan?" My name pierced the silence of the apartment. I looked up to meet Bling's gaze.  
  
"If you want to talk..." His tears had been replaced by an intense look of concern.  
  
I nodded by head in acknowledgement of his offer, but I had nothing to say. There was nothing to talk about. I cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen, then returned to the window. I watched as the sun set and counted the lights as the city wound down for the night. There was nothing else to do. Max was dead.  
  
At 2:00 am, I grabbed my keys, walked out the door, and drove to the Needle. Thirty minutes later, I pulled over at the front gate and climbed out of the car. I slipped through the hole in the chain link fence that Max and I had cut. She had never bothered to cut a hole in the fence before, but for me, she had brought a pair of wire cutters. The ends of the wire were still fresh, jagged, like an open wound.  
  
I remember taking my first trip to the Needle when I was a kid, the overly cheerful tour guide rattling off interesting facts about Seattle's most famous landmark.  
  
"At 605 feet in height, the Space Needle is a spectacular addition to Seattle's skyline. It was built in 1962 for the World's Fair. The observation deck is 520 feet high and has an amazing view of Puget Sound, Lake Washington, Lake Union, the Cascade and Olympic mountains and, of course, downtown Seattle. The high speed elevators will get us to the observation deck in 45 seconds." I can still remember her words. I can also remember her next sentence, which left me frozen in terror.  
  
"Are we ready to go up now?" She smiled as she pushed the elevator button. Our group enthusiastically filed into the elevator, everyone except for me that is. That was the only time that I openly defied what I knew my parents wanted. I didn't say anything. I just didn't move. And it was the only day that Dad didn't try to push or cajole me into overcoming my weaknesses. He took one look at me and handed our tickets back to the guide.  
  
"We won't be going up today," he said simply. Then he took my hand and we walked away. It took me thirty-one years to make it to the top, but it doesn't matter any more.  
  
The Needle was meant to be the symbol of the 21st Century, of a new more prosperous world. Its builders didn't understand a thing. The elevators stopped the day the Pulse hit and The Space Needle Corporation went bankrupt six months later. The prosperity is gone. Even the elevator boxes are missing. Someone probably claimed them to build a shelter somewhere. There is nothing left but a hollow shell. That is how I feel. Hollow.  
  
I climbed the 848 steps to the top of the observation deck. I was grateful for the trip to the top, for the time it took, the work involved and the concentration it required. I was in no hurry. I had so much time to fill. I counted every step, one stair at a time, five stairs per flight, three flights per storey, fifty-two storeys in all. I didn't want to lose count. I didn't want to lose focus. I didn't want to give myself a second to think about anything but the stairs. At the top, I pushed open the roof maintenance hatch and climbed out onto the roof. I walked to the edge and casually peered down at the city below. When I watched Max do the exact same thing all those days ago, I could barely control the panic that welled up inside me, but now the height doesn't frighten me in the least. Every other fear diminishes when your greatest fear has already come to pass. Max was dead. The scar on my temple and my bloody clothes are a constant reminder of that fact. I was soaked in Max's blood, the blood that had streamed out of her chest and onto my shirt, my pants and my hands. She was dead. I knew it.  
  
I sat down near the ledge, at the same spot where we sat together an eternity ago, and hugged my knees to my chest. Up there, none of this seemed real. It was more like a story I heard. Like it happened to someone else. I waited, looking for her, half expecting her to sit down beside me, to start talking about her family, about our plans to take down Manticore, about the future we would have. But she wasn't there. I shouldn't have gone there. I shouldn't have moved. It hurts so much to move.  
  
I watched as the sleeping city below began to awake. The sky changed from black to navy to gray as the light began to come over the horizon. With the light came a stream of people heading to the downtown core. It began as a trickle, a few headlights here, a pedestrian there, then continued to grow into a river of people. When the sun was full in the sky, I stood up, climbed through the roof hatch and began the long walk down the stairs. I stopped at the halfway point to rest a few minutes, then got up and continued. I counted the steps to each landing. The numbers in my head accompanied each footfall as I worked my way down. I slid through the hole in the fence and climbed into the car to join the stream of people heading into the city. The drive home was slow as I worked my way through the morning traffic. I was just another cog in the wheels of the city, moving in slow motion, watching the world go by. When I got home, Bling had already made breakfast. I sat down to eat it, then went to bed for a few hours. One day survived and an eternity to go.  
  
All day, I watched myself pretend to live. Get up, shower, get dressed, work out, eat, establish a routine, go through the motions, focus on the details, pretend to be engaged, get through the day. How do I survive an eternity without her? No matter how much I do or how much I focus on the trivial, I will never be able to get through all the days. I will never be able to fill all the minutes, all the seconds.  
  
I remember a man holding a dead woman in his arms. A man crying from the depths of his soul, sobbing with a grief so intense that he thought he would die too.  
  
Even though I know what happened, sometimes I can't help feeling that she's not really gone, that she's still out there.  
  
And I just hope she's okay.  
  
  
  
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A/N: Wow you made it to the end! I want to thank and congratulate every one of you that has stuck with this story. I have appreciated all your reviews, from the simple 'I liked it' that let me know you enjoyed a chapter to the in depth commentary that helped me see my own work with new eyes. I know how much effort it takes to review every chapter or even to leave a thoughtful review for one chapter and I truly thank you for it. Your feedback has definitely kept me writing through this long and often intense project.  
  
If you haven't had a chance to review before, I'd really appreciate it if you dropped your initials in the box below just to let me know you made it to the end  
  
A/N: Will there be a Season 2? Yes!  
  
I'll be doing a collaboration with Zanna and Catherder. Hopefully between the three of us we'll be able to get the chapters out in a timely manner. Look for Season 2 in about a month. In the meantime I highly recommend Zanna and Catherder's fics. Here are the links to their profiles:  
  
Zanna: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=68087  
  
Catherder: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=108540 


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